'  MADAME  v 
DE  TREYMES 

EDITH 
WHARTbN  . 


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MADAME   DE   TREYMES 


She  was  simply  one  particular  facet  of  the  solid,  glittering  impene 
trable  body  (Page  60) 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

BY 
EDITH  WHARTON 


WITH   ILLUSTRATIONS 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1907 


COPYRIGHT,  1906,  1907,  BY  CHARLES  SCRIBNER^S  SONS 
PUBLISHED  FEBRUARY,  1907 


D.  B.  UPDIKE,  THE  MERRYMOUNT  PRESS,  BOSTON 


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MADAME   DE   TREYMES 
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MADAME   DE  TREYMES 
I 

JOHN  DURHAM,  while  he  waited  for 
Madame  de  Malrive  to  draw  on  her 
gloves,  stood  in  the  hotel  doorway  looking 
out  across  the  Rue  de  Rivoli  at  the  after 
noon  brightness  of  the  Tuileries  gardens. 

His  European  visits  were  infrequent 
enough  to  have  kept  unimpaired  the  fresh 
ness  of  his  eye,  and  he  was  always  struck 
anew  by  the  vast  and  consummately  or 
dered  spectacle  of  Paris:  by  its  look  of  hav 
ing  been  boldly  and  deliberately  planned  as 
a  background  for  the  enjoyment  of  life,  in 
stead  of  being  forced  into  grudging  con 
cessions  to  the  festive  instincts,  or  barri 
cading  itself  against  them  in  unenlightened 
ugliness,  like  his  own  lamentable  New 
York. 

But  today,  if  the  scene  had  never  pre- 
[1  ] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

sented  itself  more  alluringly,  in  that  moist 
spring  bloom  between  showers,  when  the 
horse-chestnuts  dome  themselves  in  unreal 
green  against  a  gauzy  sky,  and  the  very 
dust  of  the  pavement  seems  the  fragrance 
of  lilac  made  visible — today  for  the  first 
time  the  sense  of  a  personal  stake  in  it  all, 
of  having  to  reckon  individually  with  its 
effects  and  influences,  kept  Durham  from 
an  unrestrained  yielding  to  the  spell.  Paris 
might  still  be — to  the  unimplicated  it 
doubtless  still  was — the  most  beautiful 
city  in  the  world ;  but  whether  it  were  the 
most  lovable  or  the  most  detestable  de 
pended  for  him,  in  the  last  analysis,  on  the 
buttoning  of  the  white  glove  over  which 
Fanny  de  Malrive  still  lingered. 

The  mere  fact  of  her  having  forgotten 
to  draw  on  her  gloves  as  they  were  de 
scending  in  the  hotel  lift  from  his  mother's 
[2] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

drawing-room  was,  in  this  connection, 
charged  with  significance  to  Durham.  She 
was  the  kind  of  woman  who  always  pre 
sents  herself  to  the  mind's  eye  as  com 
pletely  equipped,  as  made  up  of  exqui 
sitely  cared  for  and  finely-related  details; 
and  that  the  heat  of  her  parting  with  his 
family  should  have  left  her  unconscious 
that  she  was  emerging  gloveless  into  Paris, 
seemed,  on  the  whole,  to  speak  hopefully 
for  Durham's  future  opinion  of  the  city. 

Even  now,  he  could  detect  a  certain  con 
fusion,  a  desire  to  draw  breath  and  catch 
up  with  life,  in  the  way  she  dawdled  over 
the  last  buttons  in  the  dimness  of  the  porte- 
cochere,  while  her  footman,  outside,  hung 
on  her  retarded  signal. 

When  at  length  they  emerged,  it  was 
to  learn  from  that  functionary  that  Ma 
dame  la  Marquise's  carriage  had  been 
[3] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

obliged  to  yield  its  place  at  the  door,  but 
was  at  the  moment  in  the  act  of  regaining 
it.  Madame  de  Malrive  cut  the  explana 
tion  short.  "I  shall  walk  home.  The  car 
riage  this  evening  at  eight." 

As  the  footman  turned  away,  she  raised 
her  eyes  for  the  first  time  to  Durham's. 

"Will  you  walk  with  me?  Let  us  cross 
the  Tuileries.  I  should  like  to  sit  a  mo 
ment  on  the  terrace." 

She  spoke  quite  easily  and  naturally,  as 
if  it  were  the  most  commonplace  thing  in 
the  world  for  them  to  be  straying  afoot 
together  over  Paris;  but  even  his  vague 
knowledge  of  the  world  she  lived  in — a 
knowledge  mainly  acquired  through  the 
perusal  of  yellow-backed  fiction — gave  a 
thrilling  significance  to  her  naturalness. 
Durham,  indeed,  was  beginning  to  find 
that  one  of  the  charms  of  a  sophisticated 
[4] 


MADAME   DE   TREYMES 

society  is  that  it  lends  point  and  perspec 
tive  to  the  slightest  contact  between  the 
sexes.  If,  in  the  old  unrestricted  New 
York  days,  Fanny  Frisbee,  from  a  brown 
stone  door-step,  had  proposed  that  they 
should  take  a  walk  in  the  Park,  the  idea 
would  have  presented  itself  to  her  com 
panion  as  agreeable  but  unimportant; 
whereas  Fanny  de  Malrive's  suggestion 
that  they  should  stroll  across  the  Tuileries 
was  obviously  fraught  with  unspecified 
possibilities. 

He  was  so  throbbing  with  the  sense  of 
these  possibilities  that  he  walked  beside 
her  without  speaking  down  the  length  of 
the  wide  alley  which  follows  the  line  of  the 
Rue  de  Rivoli,  suffering  her  even,  when 
they  reached  its  farthest  end,  to  direct  him 
in  silence  up  the  steps  to  the  terrace  of 
the  Feuillants.  For,  after  all,  the  possi- 
[5] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

bilities  were  double-faced,  and  her  bold  de 
parture  from  custom  might  simply  mean 
that  what  she  had  to  say  was  so  dreadful 
that  it  needed  all  the  tenderest  mitigation 
of  circumstance. 

There  was  apparently  nothing  embar 
rassing  to  her  in  his  silence :  it  was  a  part 
of  her  long  European  discipline  that  she 
had  learned  to  manage  pauses  with  ease. 
In  her  Frisbee  days  she  might  have  packed 
this  one  with  a  random  fluency ;  now  she 
was  content  to  let  it  widen  slowly  before 
them  like  the  spacious  prospect  opening 
at  their  feet.  The  complicated  beauty  of 
this  prospect,  as  they  moved  toward  it 
between  the  symmetrically  clipped  limes 
of  the  lateral  terrace,  touched  him  anew 
through  her  nearness,  as  with  the  hint  of 
some  vast  impersonal  power,  controlling 
and  regulating  her  life  in  ways  he  could 
[6] 


MADAME   DE   TREYMES 

not  guess,  putting  between  himself  and 
her  the  whole  width  of  the  civilization  in 
to  which  her  marriage  had  absorbed  her. 
And  there  was  such  fear  in  the  thought — 
he  read  such  derision  of  what  he  had  to 
offer  in  the  splendour  of  the  great  avenues 
tapering  upward  to  the  sunset  glories  of 
the  Arch — that  all  he  had  meant  to  say 
when  he  finally  spoke  compressed  itself  at 
last  into  an  abrupt  unmitigated:  "Well?" 

She  answered  at  once — as  though  she 
had  only  awaited  the  call  of  the  national 
interrogation — "I  don't  know  when  I 
have  been  so  happy." 

"So  happy?"  The  suddenness  of  his  joy 
flushed  up  through  his  fair  skin. 

"As  I  was  just  now — taking  tea  with 
your  mother  and  sisters." 

Durham's  "Oh!"  of  surprise  betrayed 
also  a  note  of  disillusionment,  which  she 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

met   only   by    the   reconciling    murmur: 
"Shall  we  sit  down?" 

He  found  two  of  the  springy  yellow 
chairs  indigenous  to  the  spot,  and  placed 
them  under  the  tree  near  which  they  had 
paused,  saying  reluctantly,  as  he  did  so: 
"  Of  course  it  was  an  immense  pleasure  to 
them  to  see  you  again." 

"  Oh,  not  in  the  same  way.  I  mean- 
she  paused,  sinking  into  the  chair,  and  be 
traying,  for  the  first  time,  a  momentary 
inability  to  deal  becomingly  with  the  sit 
uation.  "I  mean,"  she  resumed,  smiling, 
"that  it  was  not  an  event  for  them,  as  it 
was  for  me." 

"An  event?"  —he  caught  her  up  again, 
eagerly;  for  what,  in  the  language  of  any 
civilization,  could  that  word  mean  but 
just  the  one  thing  he  most  wished  it  to? 

"To  be  with  dear,  good,  sweet,  simple, 
[81 


MADAME   DE   TREYMES 

real  Americans  again!"  she  burst  out, 
heaping  up  her  epithets  with  reckless 
prodigality. 

Durham's  smile  once  more  faded  to  im 
personality,  as  he  rejoined,  just  a  shade  on 
the  defensive:  "If  it's  merely  our  Amer 
icanism  you  enjoyed — I've  no  doubt  we 
can  give  you  all  you  want  in  that  line." 

"Yes,  it's  just  that!  But  if  you  knew 
what  the  word  means  to  me!  It  means — 
it  means — "  she  paused  as  if  to  assure  her 
self  that  they  were  sufficiently  isolated 
from  the  desultory  groups  beneath  the 
other  trees — "it  means  that  I'm  safe  with 
them :  as  safe  as  in  a  bank ! " 

Durham  felt  a  sudden  warmth  behind 
his  eyes  and  in  his  throat.  "I  think  I  do 
know " 

"  No,  you  don't,  really ;  you  can't  know 
how  dear  and  strange  and  familiar  it  all 
[9] 


MADAME   DE   TREYMES 

sounded:  the  old  New  York  names  that 
kept  coming  up  in  your  mother's  talk, 
and  her  charming  quaint  ideas  about  Eu 
rope — their  all  regarding  it  as  a  great  big 
innocent  pleasure  ground  and  shop  for 
Americans ;  and  your  mother's  missing  the 
home-made  bread  and  preferring  the  Amer 
ican  asparagus — I  'm  so  tired  of  Americans 
who  despise  even  their  own  asparagus! 
And  then  your  married  sister's  spending 
her  summers  at — where  is  it? — the  Kit- 

tawittany  House  on  Lake  Pohunk " 

A  vision  of  earnest  women  in  Shetland 
shawls,  with  spectacles  and  thin  knobs  of 
hair,  eating  blueberry-pie  at  unwholesome 
hours  in  a  shingled  dining-room  on  a  bare 
New  England  hilltop,  rose  pallidly  be 
tween  Durham  and  the  verdant  brightness 
of  the  Champs  Elys^es,  and  he  protested 
with  a  slight  smile:  "Oh,  but  my  married 
[10] 


MADAME   DE   TREYMES 

sister  is  the  black  sheep  of  the  family — 
the  rest  of  us  never  sank  as  low  as  that." 

"Low?  I  think  it's  beautiful — fresh  and 
innocent  and  simple.  I  remember  going  to 
such  a  place  once.  They  have  early  dinner 
— rather  late — and  go  off  in  buckboards 
over  terrible  roads,  and  bring  back  golden- 
rod  and  autumn  leaves,  and  read  nature 
books  aloud  on  the  piazza ;  and  there  is  al 
ways  one  shy  young  man  in  flannels — 
only  one — who  has  come  to  see  the  pret 
tiest  girl  (though  how  he  can  choose  a- 
mong  so  many ! )  and  who  takes  her  off  in 

a  buggy  for  hours  and  hours "  She 

paused  and  summed  up  with  a  long  sigh: 

"  It  is  fifteen  years  since  I  was  in  America." 

"And  you're  still  so  good  an  American." 

"  Oh,  a  better  and  better  one  everyday!" 

He  hesitated.  "Then  why  did  you  never 

come  back?" 

[11  ] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

Her  face  altered  instantly,  exchanging 
its  retrospective  light  for  the  look  of  slight 
ly  shadowed  watchfulness  which  he  had 
known  as  most  habitual  to  it. 

"  It  was  impossible  —  it  has  always  been 
so.  My  husband  would  not  go ;  and  since  — 
since  our  separation — there  have  been  fa 
mily  reasons." 

Durham  sighed  impatiently.  "Why  do 
you  talk  of  reasons  ?  The  truth  is,  you  have 
made  your  life  here.  You  could  never  give 
all  this  up!"  He  made  a  discouraged  ges 
ture  in  the  direction  of  the  Place  de  la  Con 
corde. 

"Give  it  up!  I  would  go  tomorrow!  But 
it  could  never,  now,  be  for  more  than  a  visit. 
I  must  live  in  France  on  account  of  my  boy." 

Durham's  heart  gave  a  quick  beat.  At 
last  the  talk  had  neared  the  point  toward 
which  his  whole  mind  was  straining,  and 
[12] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

he  began  to  feel  a  personal  application  in 
her  words.  But  that  made  him  all  the  more 
cautious  about  choosing  his  own. 

"It  is  an  agreement — about  the  boy?" 
he  ventured. 

"  I  gave  my  word.  They  knew  that  was 
enough,"  she  said  proudly ;  adding,  as  if  to 
put  him  in  full  possession  of  her  reasons: 
"It  would  have  been  much  more  difficult 
for  me  to  obtain  complete  control  of  my 
son  if  it  had  not  been  understood  that  I  was 
to  live  in  France." 

"  That  seemsfair,"Durham  assented  after 
a  moment's  reflection:  it  was  his  instinct, 
even  in  the  heat  of  personal  endeavour,  to 
pause  a  moment  on  the  question  of  "  fair 
ness."  The  personal  claim  reasserted  itself 
as  he  added  tentatively:  "But  when  he  is 
brought  up — when  he's  grown  up:  then 
you  would  feel  freer?" 
[13] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

She  received  this  with  a  start,  as  a  pos 
sibility  too  remote  to  have  entered  into  her 
view  of  the  future.  "  He  is  only  eight  years 
old!"  she  objected. 

"Ah,  of  course  it  would  be  a  long  way 
off?" 

"A  long  way  off,  thank  heaven!  French 
mothers  part  late  with  their  sons,  and  in 
that  one  respect  I  mean  to  be  a  French 
mother." 

"Of  course — naturally — since  he  has 
only  you,"  Durham  again  assented. 

He  was  eager  to  show  how  fully  he  took 
her  point  of  view,  if  only  to  dispose  her  to 
the  reciprocal  fairness  of  taking  his  when 
the  time  came  to  present  it.  And  he  began 
to  think  that  the  time  had  now  come ;  that 
their  walk  would  not  have  thus  resolved 
itself,  without  excuse  or  pretext,  into  a 
tranquil  session  beneath  the  trees,  for  any 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

purpose  less  important  than  that  of  giving 
him  his  opportunity. 

He  took  it,  characteristically,  without 
seeking  a  transition.  "When  I  spoke  to  you, 
the  other  day,  about  myself — about  what 
I  felt  for  you — I  said  nothing  of  the  future, 
because,  for  the  moment,  my  mind  refused 
to  travel  beyond  its  immediate  hope  of 
happiness.  But  I  felt,  of  course,  even  then, 
that  the  hope  involved  various  difficulties 
— that  we  can't,  as  we  might  once  have 
done,  come  together  without  any  thought 
but  for  ourselves ;  and  whatever  your  an 
swer  is  to  be,  I  want  to  tell  you  now  that 
I  am  ready  to  accept  my  share  of  the  dif 
ficulties."  He  paused,  and  then  added  ex 
plicitly  :  "  If  there 's  the  least  chance  of  your 
listening  to  me,  I  'm  willing  to  live  over  here 
as  long  as  you  can  keep  your  boy  with 
you." 

[15] 


II 

WHATEVER  Madame  de  Malrive's  answer 
was  to  be,  there  could  be  no  doubt  as  to 
her  readiness  to  listen.  She  received  Dur 
ham's  words  without  sign  of  resistance,  and 
took  time  to  ponder  them  gently  before  she 
answered,  in  a  voice  touched  by  emotion : 
"You  are  very  generous — very  unselfish; 
but  when  you  fix  a  limit — no  matter  how 
remote — to  my  remaining  here,  I  see  how 
wrong  it  is  to  let  myself  consider  for  a  mo 
ment  such  possibilities  as  we  have  been 
talking  of." 

"Wrong?  Why  should  it  be  wrong? " 
"Because  I  shall  want  to  keep  my  boy 
always !  Not,  of  course,  in  the  sense  of  liv 
ing  with  him,  or  even  forming  an  impor 
tant  part  of  his  life;  I  am  not  deluded 
enough  to  think  that  possible.  But  I  do 
believe  it  possible  never  to  pass  wholly  out 
[16] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

of  his  life ;  and  while  there  is  a  hope  of  that, 
how  can  I  leave  him?"  She  paused,  and 
turned  on  him  a  new  face,  a  face  in  which 
the  past  of  which  he  was  still  so  ignorant 
showed  itself  like  a  shadow  suddenly  dark 
ening  a  clear  pane.  "How  can  I  make  you 
understand?"  she  went  on  urgently.  "It  is 
not  only  because  of  my  love  for  him — not 
only,  I  mean,  because  of  my  own  happi 
ness  in  being  with  him ;  that  I  can't,  in  im 
agination,  surrender  even  the  remotest  hour 
of  his  future;  it  is  because,  the  moment 
he  passes  out  of  my  influence,  he  passes 
under  that  other — the  influence  I  have 
been  fighting  against  every  hour  since  he 
was  born! — I  don't  mean,  you  know,"  she 
added,  as  Durham,  with  bent  head,  contin 
ued  to  offer  her  the  silent  fixity  of  his  at 
tention,  "  I  don't  mean  the  special  personal 
influence — except  inasmuch  as  it  repre- 
•  [17] 


MADAME   DE   TREYMES 

sents  something  wider,  more  general,  some 
thing  that  encloses  and  circulates  through 
the  whole  world  in  which  he  belongs.  That 
is  what  I  meant  when  I  said  you  could 
never  understand !  There  is  nothing  in  your 
experience — in  any  American  experien  ce — 
to  correspond  with  that  far-reaching  fam 
ily  organization,  which  is  itself  a  part  of  the 
larger  system,  and  which  encloses  a  young 
man  of  my  son's  position  in  a  network  of 
accepted  prejudices  and  opinions.  Every 
thing  is  prepared  in  advance — his  political 
and  religious  convictions,  his  judgements 
of  people,  his  sense  of  honour,  his  ideas  of 
women,  his  whole  view  of  life.  He  is  taught 
to  see  vileness  and  corruption  in  every  one 
not  of  his  own  way  of  thinking,  and  in  every 
idea  that  does  not  directly  serve  the  reli 
gious  and  political  purposes  of  his  class. 
The  truth  is  n't  a  fixed  thing:  it's  not  used 
[18] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

to  test  actions  by,  it's  tested  by  them,  and 
made  to  fit  in  with  them.  And  this  form 
ing  of  the  mind  begins  with  the  child's  first 
consciousness ;  it's  in  his  nursery  stories,  his 
baby  prayers,  his  very  games  with  his  play 
mates!  Already  he  is  only  half  mine,  be 
cause  the  Church  has  the  other  half,  and 
will  be  reaching  out  for  my  share  as  soon 
as  his  education  begins.  But  that  other  half 
is  still  mine,  and  I  mean  to  make  it  the 
strongest  and  most  living  half  of  the  two, 
so  that,  when  the  inevitable  conflict  begins, 
the  energy  and  the  truth  and  the  endurance 
shall  be  on  my  side  and  not  on  theirs!" 

She  paused,  flushing  with  the  repressed 
fervour  of  her  utterance,  though  her  voice 
had  not  been  raised  beyond  its  usual  dis 
creet  modulations ;  and  Durham  felt  him 
self  tingling  with  the  transmitted  force  of 
her  resolve.  Whatever  shock  her  words 
[19] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

brought  to  his  personal  hope,  he  was  grate 
ful  to  her  for  speaking  them  so  clearly,  for 
having  so  sure  a  grasp  of  her  purpose. 

Her  decision  strengthened  his  own,  and 
after  a  pause  of  deliberation  he  said  quietly : 
"There  might  be  a  good  deal  to  urge  on 
the  other  side — the  ineffectualness  of  your 
sacrifice,  the  probability  that  when  your 
son  marries  he  will  inevitably  be  absorbed 
back  into  the  life  of  his  class  and  his  peo 
ple  ;  but  I  can't  look  at  it  in  that  way,  be 
cause  if  I  were  in  your  place  I  believe  I 
should  feel  just  as  you  do  about  it.  As  long 
as  there  was  a  fighting  chance  I  should 
want  to  keep  hold  of  my  half,  no  matter 
how  much  the  struggle  cost  me.  And  one 
reason  why  I  understand  your  feeling  about 
your  boy  is  that  I  have  the  same  feeling 
about  you:  as  long  as  there's  a  fighting 
chance  of  keeping  my  half  of  you — the 
[20] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

half  he  is  willing  to  spare  me — I  don't  see 
how  I  can  ever  give  it  up."  He  waited  again, 
and  then  brought  out  firmly:  "If  you'll 
marry  me,  I  '11  agree  to  live  out  here  as  long 
as  you  want,  and  we  '11  be  two  instead  of 
one  to  keep  hold  of  your  half  of  him." 

He  raised  his  eyes  as  he  ended,  and  saw 
that  hers  met  them  through  a  quick  cloud 
ing  of  tears. 

"Ah,  I  am  glad  to  have  had  this  said  to 
me!  But  I  could  never  accept  such  an 
offer." 

He  caught  instantly  at  the  distinction. 
"That  does  n't  mean  that  you  could  never 
accept  me?" 

"Under  such  conditions " 

"But  if  I  am  satisfied  with  the  condi 
tions?  Don't  think  I  am  speaking  rashly, 
under  the  influence  of  the  moment.  I  have 
expected  something  of  this  sort,  and  I  have 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

thought  out  my  side  of  the  case.  As  far  as  ma 
terial  circumstances  go,  I  have  worked  long 
enough  and  successfully  enough  to  take  my 
ease  and  take  it  where  I  choose.  I  mention 
that  because  the  life  I  offer  you  is  offered  to 
your  boy  as  well."  He  let  this  sink  into  her 
mind  before  summing  up  gravely:  "The 
offer  I  make  is  made  deliberately,  and  at 
least  I  have  a  right  to  a  direct  answer." 

She  was  silent  again,  and  then  lifted  a 
cleared  gaze  to  his.  "  My  direct  answer  then 
is :  if  I  were  still  Fanny  Frisbee  I  would 
marry  you." 

He  bent  toward  her  persuasively.  "But 
you  will  be — when  the  divorce  is  pro 
nounced." 

"  Ah,the  divorce "  She  flushed  deep 
ly,  with  an  instinctive  shrinking  back  of  her 
whole  person  which  made  him  straighten 
himself  in  his  chair. 

[  22  ] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

"Do  you  so  dislike  the  idea?" 

"The  idea  of  divorce?  No — not  in  my 
case.  I  should  like  anything  that  would  do 
away  with  the  past — obliterate  it  all — 
make  everything  new  in  my  life ! " 

"  Then  what ?"he  began  again,  wait 
ing  with  the  patience  of  a  wooer  on  the 
uneasy  circling  of  her  tormented  mind. 

"  Oh,  don't  ask  me ;  I  don't  know ;  I  am 
frightened." 

Durham  gave  a  deep  sigh  of  discourage 
ment.  "  I  thought  your  coming  here  with 
me  today — and  above  all  your  going  with 
me  just  now  to  see  my  mother — was  a 
sign  that  you  were  not  frightened!" 

"  Well,  I  was  not  when  I  was  with  your 
mother.  She  made  everything  seem  easy 
and  natural.  She  took  me  back  into  that 
clear  American  air  where  there  are  no  ob 
scurities,  no  mysteries " 

[  23  ] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

"What  obscurities,  what  mysteries,  are 
you  afraid  of?" 

She  looked  about  her  with  a  faint  shiver. 
"I  am  afraid  of  everything !"  she  said. 

"That's  because  you  are  alone;  because 
you've  no  one  to  turn  to.  I'll  clear  the  air 
for  you  fast  enough  if  you  '11  let  me." 

He  looked  forth  defiantly,  as  if  flinging 
his  challenge  at  the  great  city  which  had 
come  to  typify  the  powers  contending  with 
him  for  her  possession. 

"You  say  that  so  easily!  But  you  don't 
know;  none  of  you  know." 

"Know  what?" 

"The  difficulties " 

"I  told  you  I  was  ready  to  take  my 
share  of  the  difficulties — and  my  share  na 
turally  includes  yours.  You  know  Ameri 
cans  are  great  hands  at  getting  over  diffi 
culties."  He  drew  himself  up  confidently. 
[24] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

"Just  leave  that  to  me — only  tell  me  ex 
actly  what  you're  afraid  of." 

She  paused  again,  and  then  said:  "The 
divorce,  to  begin  with — they  will  never 
consent  to  it." 

He  noticed  that  she  spoke  as  though 
the  interests  of  the  whole  clan,  rather  than 
her  husband's  individual  claim,  were  to  be 
considered ;  and  the  use  of  the  plural  pro 
noun  shocked  his  free  individualism  like  a 
glimpse  of  some  dark  feudal  survival. 

"But  you  are  absolutely  certain  of  your 
divorce !  I  Ve  consulted — of  course  without 
mentioning  names " 

She  interrupted  him,  with  a  melancholy 
smile:  "Ah,  so  have  I.  The  divorce  would 
be  easy  enough  to  get,  if  they  ever  let  it 
come  into  the  courts." 

"How  on  earth  can  they  prevent  that?" 

"  I  don't  know ;  my  never  knowing  how 
[25] 


MADAME  DE   TREYMES 

they  will  do  things  is  one  of  the  secrets  of 
their  power." 

"Their  power?  What  power?"  he  broke 
in  with  irrepressible  contempt.  "Who  are 
these  bogeys  whose  machinations  are  going 
to  arrest  the  course  of  justice  in  a — com 
paratively — civilized  country  ?  You  Ve  told 
me  yourself  that  Monsieur  de  Malrive  is 
the  least  likely  to  give  you  trouble;  and 
the  others  are  his  uncle  the  abbe\  his  mo 
ther  and  sister.  That  kind  of  a  syndicate 
does  n't  scare  me  much.  A  priest  and  two 
women  contra  mundumf" 

She  shook  her  head.  "Not  contra  mun- 
dum,  but  with  it,  their  whole  world  is  be 
hind  them.  It's  that  mysterious  solidarity 
that  you  can't  understand.  One  does  n't 
know  how  far  they  may  reach,  or  in  how 
many  directions.  I  have  never  known. 
They  have  always  cropped  up  where  I 
[26] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

least  expected  them." 

Before  this  persistency  of  negation  Dur 
ham's  buoyancy  began  to  flag,  but  his  de 
termination  grew  the  more  fixed. 

"  Well,  then,  supposing  them  to  possess 
these  supernatural  powers;  do  you  think 
it's  to  people  of  that  kind  that  I'll  ever 
consent  to  give  you  up?" 

She  raised  a  half-smiling  glance  of  pro 
test.  "Oh,  they're  not  wantonly  wicked. 
They'll  leave  me  alone  as  long  as " 

"As  I  do?"  he  interrupted.  "Do  you 
want  me  to  leave  you  alone?  Was  that 
what  you  brought  me  here  to  tell  me?" 

The  directness  of  the  challenge  seemed 
to  gather  up  the  scattered  strands  of  her 
hesitation,  and  lifting  her  head  she  turned 
on  him  a  look  in  which,  but  for  its  under 
lying  shadow,  he  might  have  recovered  the 
full  free  beam  of  Fanny  Frisbee's  gaze. 
[27  ] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  brought  you  here," 
she  said  gently,  "except  from  the  wish  to 
prolong  a  little  the  illusion  of  being  once 
more  an  American  among  Americans.  Just 
now,  sitting  there  with  your  mother  and 
Katy  and  Nannie,  the  difficulties  seemed  to 
vanish ;  the  problems  grew  as  trivial  to  me 
as  they  are  to  you.  And  I  wanted  them  to 
remain  so  a  little  longer;  I  wanted  to  put 
off  going  back  to  them.  But  it  was  of  no 
use — they  were  waiting  for  me  here.  They 
are  over  there  now  in  that  house  across  the 
river."  She  indicated  the  grey  sky-line  of 
the  Faubourg,  shining  in  the  splintered  ra 
diance  of  the  sunset  beyond  the  long  sweep 
of  the  quays.  "They  are  a  part  of  me — I 
belong  to  them.  I  must  go  back  to  them!" 
she  sighed. 

She  rose  slowly  to  her  feet,  as  though 
her  metaphor  had  expressed  an  actual  fact 
[28] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

and  she  felt  herself  bodily  drawn  from 
his  side  by  the  influences  of  which  she 
spoke. 

Durham  had  risen  too.  "  Then  I  go  back 
with  you!"  he  exclaimed  energetically; 
and  as  she  paused,  wavering  a  little  under 
the  shock  of  his  resolve:  "I  don't  mean 
into  your  house — but  into  your  life!"  he 
said. 

She  suffered  him,  at  any  rate,  to  accom 
pany  her  to  the  door  of  the  house,  and  al 
lowed  their  debate  to  prolong  itself  through 
the  almost  monastic  quiet  of  the  quarter 
which  led  thither.  On  the  way,  he  succeed 
ed  in  wresting  from  her  the  confession  that, 
if  it  were  possible  to  ascertain  in  advance 
that  her  husband's  family  would  not  op 
pose  her  action,  she  might  decide  to  ap 
ply  for  a  divorce.  Short  of  a  positive  assur 
ance  on  this  point,  she  made  it  clear  that 
[29] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

she  would  never  move  in  the  matter;  there 
must  be  no  scandal,  no  retentissement,  no 
thing  which  her  boy,  necessarily  brought 
up  in  the  French  tradition  of  scrupulously 
preserved  appearances,  could  afterward  re 
gard  as  the  faintest  blur  on  his  much-quar 
tered  escutcheon.  But  even  this  partial  con 
cession  again  raised  fresh  obstacles;  for 
there  seemed  to  be  no  one  to  whom  she 
could  entrust  so  delicate  an  investigation, 
and  to  apply  directly  to  the  Marquis  de 
Malrive  or  his  relatives  appeared,  in  the 
light  of  her  past  experience,  the  last  way 
of  learning  their  intentions.  x 

"But,"  Durham  objected,  beginning  to 
suspect  a  morbid  fixity  of  idea  in  her  per 
petual  attitude  of  distrust — "but  surely 
you  have  told  me  that  your  husband's 
sister — what  is  her  name?  Madame  de 
Treymes? — was  the  most  powerful  mem- 
[30] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

her  of  the  group,  and  that  she  has  always 
been  on  your  side." 

She  hesitated.  "Yes,  Christiane  has  been 
on  my  side.  She  dislikes  her  brother.  But 
it  would  not  do  to  ask  her." 

"But  could  no  one  else  ask  her?  Who 
are  her  friends?" 

"She  has  a  great  many;  and  some,  of 
course,  are  mine.  But  in  a  case  like  this 
they  would  be  all  hers ;  they  would  n't  hes 
itate  a  moment  between  us." 

"Why  should  it  be  necessary  to  hesi 
tate  between  you?  Suppose  Madame  de 
Treymes  sees  the  reasonableness  of  what 
you  ask ;  suppose,  at  any  rate,  she  sees  the 
hopelessness  of  opposing  you  ?  Why  should 
she  make  a  mystery  of  your  opinion  ? " 

"It's  not  that;  it  is  that,  if  I  went  to 
her  friends,  I  should  never  get  her  real 
opinion  from  them.  At  least  I  should 
[31] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

never  know  if  it  was  her  real  opinion ;  and 
therefore  I  should  be  no  farther  advanced. 
Don't  you  see?" 

Durham  struggled  between  the  senti 
mental  impulse  to  soothe  her,  and  the  prac 
tical  instinct  that  it  was  a  moment  for  un 
mitigated  frankness. 

"I'm  not  sure  that  I  do;  but  if  you 
can't  find  out  what  Madame  de  Treymes 
thinks,  I  '11  see  what  I  can  do  myself." 

"Oh — you!"  broke  from  her  in  min 
gled  terror  and  admiration;  and  pausing  on 
her  doorstep  to  lay  her  hand  in  his  before 
she  touched  the  bell,  she  added  with  a  half- 
whimsical  flash  of  regret:  "Why  didn't 
this  happen  to  Fanny  Frisbee?" 


[32] 


Ill 

had   it  not   happened  to   Fanny 
Frisbee  ? 

Durham  put  the  question  to  himself  as 
he  walked  back  along  the  quays,  in  a  state 
of  inner  commotion  which  left  him,  for 
once,  insensible  to  the  ordered  beauty  of 
his  surroundings.  Propinquity  had  not  been 
lacking:  he  had  known  Miss  Frisbee  since 
his  college  days.  In  unsophisticated  circles, 
one  family  is  apt  to  quote  another;  and 
the  Durham  ladies  had  always  quoted  the 
Frisbees.  The  Frisbees  were  bold,  expe 
rienced,  enterprising:  they  had  what  the 
novelists  of  the  day  called  "dash."  The 
beautiful  Fanny  was  especially  dashing; 
she  had  the  showiest  national  attributes, 
tempered  only  by  a  native  grace  of  soft 
ness,  as  the  beam  of  her  eyes  was  subdued 
by  the  length  of  their  lashes.  And  yet 
[33] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

young  Durham,  though  not  unsusceptible 
to  such  charms,  had  remained  content  to 
enjoy  them  from  a  safe  distance  of  good- 
fellowship.  If  he  had  been  asked  why,  he 
could  not  have  told;  but  the  Durham 
of  forty  understood.  It  was  because  there 
were,  with  minor  modifications,  many  oth 
er  Fanny  Frisbees ;  whereas  never  before, 
within  his  ken,  had  there  been  a  Fanny  de 
Malrive. 

He  had  felt  it  in  a  flash,  when,  the  au 
tumn  before,  he  had  run  across  her  one 
evening  in  the  dining-room  of  the  Beau- 
rivage  at  Ouchy ;  when,  after  a  furtive  ex 
change  of  glances,  they  had  simultane 
ously  arrived  at  recognition,  followed  by 
an  eager  pressure  of  hands,  and  a  long 
evening  of  reminiscence  on  the  starlit  ter 
race.  She  was  the  same,  but  so  mysteri 
ously  changed!  And  it  was  the  mystery, 
[34] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

the  sense  of  unprobed  depths  of  initiation, 
which  drew  him  to  her  as  her  freshness 
had  never  drawn  him.  He  had  not  hitherto 
attempted  to  define  the  nature  of  the 
change:  it  remained  for  his  sister  Nannie 
to  do  that  when,  on  his  return  to  the  Rue 
de  Rivoli,  where  the  family  were  still  sit 
ting  in  conclave  upon  their  recent  visitor, 
Miss  Durham  summed  up  their  groping 
comments  in  the  phrase :  "  I  never  saw  any 
thing  so  French  1 " 

Durham,  understanding  what  his  sister's 
use  of  the  epithet  implied,  recognized  it 
instantly  as  the  explanation  of  his  own 
feelings.  Yes,  it  was  the  finish,  the  mod 
elling,  which  Madame  de  Malrive's  expe 
rience  had  given  her  that  set  her  apart 
from  the  fresh  uncomplicated  personalities 
of  which  she  had  once  been  simply  the  most 
charming  type.  The  influences  that  had 
[35] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

lowered  her  voice,  regulated  her  gestures, 
toned  her  down  to  harmony  with  the  warm 
dim  background  of  a  long  social  past— 
these  influences  had  lent  to  her  natural  fine 
ness  of  perception  a  command  of  expres 
sion  adapted  to  complex  conditions.  She  had 
moved  in  surroundings  through  which  one 
could  hardly  bounce  and  bang  on  the  gen 
ial  American  plan  without  knocking  the 
angles  off  a  number  of  sacred  institutions ; 
and  her  acquired  dexterity  of  movement 
seemed  to  Durham  a  crowning  grace.  It 
was  a  shock,  now  that  he  knew  at  what  cost 
the  dexterity  had  been  acquired,  to  acknow 
ledge  this  even  to  himself;  he  hated  to 
think  that  she  could  owe  anything  to  such 
conditions  as  she  had  been  placed  in.  And 
it  gave  him  a  sense  of  the  tremendous 
strength  of  the  organization  into  which 
she  had  been  absorbed,  that  in  spite  of  her 
[36] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

horror,  her  moral  revolt,  she  had  not  re 
acted  against  its  external  forms.  She  might 
abhor  her  husband,  her  marriage,  and  the 
world  to  which  it  had  introduced  her,  but 
she  had  become  a  product  of  that  world 
in  its  outward  expression,  and  no  better 
proof  of  the  fact  was  needed  than  her  ex 
otic  enjoyment  of  Americanism. 

The  sense  of  the  distance  to  which  her 
American  past  had  been  removed  was 
never  more  present  to  him  than  when,  a 
day  or  two  later,  he  went  with  his  mother 
and  sisters  to  return  her  visit.  The  region 
beyond  the  river  existed,  for  the  Durham 
ladies,  only  as  the  unmapped  environment 
of  the  Bon  Marchd;  and  Nannie  Durham's 
exclamation  on  the  pokiness  of  the  streets 
and  the  dulness  of  the  houses  showed  Dur 
ham,  with  a  start,  how  far  he  had  already 
travelled  from  the  family  point  of  view. 
[37] 

187508 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

"Well,  if  this  is  all  she  got  by  marrying 
a  Marquis ! "  the  young  lady  summed  up  as 
they  paused  before  the  small  sober  hotel  in 
its  high-walled  court;  and  Katy,  follow 
ing  her  mother  through  the  stone-vaulted 
and  stone-floored  vestibule,  murmured : "  It 
must  be  simply  freezing  in  winter." 

In  the  softly-faded  drawing-room,  with 
its  old  pastels  in  old  frames,  its  windows 
looking  on  the  damp  green  twilight  of  a 
garden  sunk  deep  in  blackened  walls,  the 
American  ladies  might  have  been  even 
more  conscious  of  the  insufficiency  of  their 
friend's  compensations,  had  not  the  warmth 
of  her  welcome  precluded  all  other  reflec 
tions.  It  was  not  till  she  had  gathered 
them  about  her  in  the  corner  beside  the 
tea-table,  that  Durham  identified  the  slen 
der  dark  lady  loitering  negligently  in  the 
background,  and  introduced  in  a  compre- 
[  38] 


MADAME  DE   TREYMES 

hensive  murmur  to  the  American  group, 
as  the  redoubtable  sister-in-law  to  whom 
he  had  declared  himself  ready  to  throw 
down  his  challenge. 

There  was  nothing  very  redoubtable 
about  Madame  de  Treymes,  except  per 
haps  the  kindly  yet  critical  observation 
which  she  bestowed  on  her  sister-in-law's 
visitors :  the  unblinking  attention  of  a  civ 
ilized  spectator  observing  an  encampment 
of  aborigines.  He  had  heard  of  her  as  a 
beauty,  and  was  surprised  to  find  her,  as 
Nannie  afterward  put  it,  a  mere  stick  to 
hang  clothes  on  (but  they  did  hang! ),  with 
a  small  brown  glancing  face,  like  that  of 
a  charming  little  inquisitive  animal.  Yet 
before  she  had  addressed  ten  words  to 
him — nibbling  at  the  hard  English  conso 
nants  like  nuts — he  owned  the  justice  of 
the  epithet.  She  was  a  beauty,  if  beauty, 
[39] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

instead  of  being  restricted  to  the  cast  of 
the  face,  is  a  pervasive  attribute  informing 
the  hands,  the  voice,  the  gestures,  the  very 
fall  of  a  flounce  and  tilt  of  a  feather.  In 
this  impalpable  aura  of  grace  Madame  de 
Treymes'  dark  meagre  presence  unmistak 
ably  moved,  like  a  thin  flame  in  a  wide 
quiver  of  light.  And  as  he  realized  that  she 
looked  much  handsomer  than  she  was,  so, 
while  they  talked,  he  felt  that  she  under 
stood  a  great  deal  more  than  she  betrayed. 
It  was  not  through  the  groping  speech 
which  formed  their  apparent  medium  of 
communication  that  she  imbibed  her  in 
formation:  she  found  it  in  the  air,  she  ex 
tracted  it  from  Durham's  look  and  man 
ner,  she  caught  it  in  the  turn  of  her  sister- 
in-law's  defenceless  eyes  —  for  in  her  pre 
sence  Madame  de  Malrive  became  Fanny 
Frisbee  again! — she  put  it  together,  in 
[40] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

short,  out  of  just  such  unconsidered  inde 
scribable  trifles  as  differentiated  the  quiet 
felicity  of  her  dress  from  Nannie  and  Katy's 
"handsome"  haphazard  clothes. 

Her  actual  converse  with  Durham  moved, 
meanwhile,  strictly  in  the  conventional 
ruts:  had  he  been  long  in  Paris,  which  of 
the  new  plays  did  he  like  best,  was  it  true 
that  American  jeunesfilles  were  sometimes 
taken  to  the  Boulevard  theatres  ?  And  she 
threw  an  interrogative  glance  at  the  young 
ladies  beside  the  tea-table.  To  Durham's 
reply  that  it  depended  how  much  French 
they  knew,  she  shrugged  and  smiled,  re 
plying  that  his  compatriots  all  spoke  French 
like  Parisians,  enquiring,  after  a  moment's 
thought,  if  they  learned  it,  la  bas,  des  negres, 
and  laughing  heartily  when  Durham's  as 
tonishment  revealed  her  blunder. 

When  at  length  she  had  taken  leave — 
[41] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

enveloping  the  Durham  ladies  in  a  last 
puzzled  penetrating  look — Madame  de 
Malrive  turned  to  Mrs.  Durham  with  a 
faintly  embarrassed  smile. 

"My  sister-in-law  was  much  interested; 
I  believe  you  are  the  first  Americans  she 
has  ever  known." 

"Good  gracious!"  ejaculated  Nannie,  as 
though  such  social  darkness  required  imme 
diate  missionary  action  on  some  one's  part. 

"Well,  she  knows  us"  said  Durham, 
catching,  in  Madame  de  Malrive's  rapid 
glance,  a  startled  assent  to  his  point. 

"After  all,"  reflected  the  accurate  Katy, 
as  though  seeking  an  excuse  for  Madame 
de  Treymes'  unenlightenment,  "we  don't 
know  many  French  people,  either." 

To  which  Nannie  promptly  if  obscurely 
retorted:  "Ah!  but  we  couldn't  and  she 
could!" 

[42] 


IV 

MADAME  DE  TREYMES'  friendly  observa 
tion  of  her  sister-in-law's  visitors  resulted 
in  no  expression  on  her  part  of  a  desire  to 
renew  her  study  of  them.  To  all  appear 
ances,  she  passed  out  of  their  lives  when 
Madame  de  Malrive's  door  closed  on  her; 
and  Durham  felt  that  the  arduous  task  of 
making  her  acquaintance  was  still  to  be 
begun. 

He  felt  also,  more  than  ever,  the  neces 
sity  of  attempting  it;  and  in  his  determi 
nation  to  lose  no  time,  and  his  perplexity 
how  to  set  most  speedily  about  the  busi 
ness,  he  bethought  himself  of  applying  to 
his  cousin  Mrs.  Boykin. 

Mrs.  Elmer  Boykin  was  a  small  plump 

woman,  to  whose  vague  prettiness  the  lines 

of  middle  age  had  given  no  meaning:  as 

though  whatever  had  happened  to  her  had 

[43] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

merely  added  to  the  sum  total  of  her  in 
experience.  After  a  Parisian  residence  of 
twenty-five  years,  spent  in  a  state  of  fe 
verish  servitude  to  the  great  artists  of  the 
Rue  de  la  Paix,  her  dress  and  hair  still 
retained  a  certain  rigidity  in  keeping  with 
the  directness  of  her  gaze  and  the  unmo 
dulated  candour  of  her  voice.  Her  very 
drawing-room  had  the  hard  bright  atmo 
sphere  of  her  native  skies,  and  one  felt  that 
she  was  still  true  at  heart  to  the  national 
ideals  in  electric  lighting  and  plumbing. 

She  and  her  husband  had  left  America 
owing  to  the  impossibility  of  living  there 
with  the  finish  and  decorum  which  the 
Boykin  standard  demanded ;  but  in  the  iso 
lation  of  their  exile  they  had  created  about 
them  a  kind  of  phantom  America,  where 
the  national  prejudices  continued  to  flour 
ish  unchecked  by  the  national  progressive- 
[44  ] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

ness:  a  little  world  sparsely  peopled  by 
compatriots  in  the  same  attitude  of  chronic 
opposition  toward  a  society  chronically  un 
aware  of  them.  In  this  uncontaminated 
air  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boykin  had  preserved 
the  purity  of  simpler  conditions,  and  Elmer 
Boykin,  returning  rakishly  from  a  Sun 
day's  racing  at  Chantilly,  betrayed,  under 
his  "knowing"  coat  and  the  racing-glasses 
slung  ostentatiously  across  his  shoulder, 
the  unmistakable  cut  of  the  American 
business  man  coming  "up  town"  after  a 
long  day  in  the  office. 

It  was  a  part  of  the  Boykins  uncom 
fortable  but  determined  attitude — and  per 
haps  a  last  expression  of  their  latent  patri 
otism — to  live  in  active  disapproval  of  the 
world  about  them,  fixing  in  memory  with 
little  stabs  of  reprobation  innumerable  in 
stances  of  what  the  abominable  foreigner 
[45] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

was  doing;  so  that  they  reminded  Durham 
of  persons  peacefully  following  the  course 
of  a  horrible  war  by  pricking  red  pins  in 
a  map.  To  Mrs.  Durham,  with  her  gentle 
tourist's  view  of  the  European  continent, 
as  a  vast  Museum  in  which  the  human 
multitudes  simply  furnished  the  element  of 
costume,  the  Boykins  seemed  abysmally 
instructed,  and  darkly  expert  in  forbidden 
things;  and  her  son,  without  sharing  her 
simple  faith  in  their  omniscience,  credited 
them  with  an  ample  supply  of  the  kind  of 
information  of  which  he  was  in  search. 

Mrs.  Boykin,  from  the  corner  of  an  in 
tensely  modern  Gobelin  sofa,  studied  her 
cousin  as  he  balanced  himself  insecurely 
on  one  of  the  small  gilt  chairs  which  al 
ways  look  surprised  at  being  sat  in. 

"Fanny  de  Malrive?  Oh,  of  course:  I 
remember  you  were  all  very  intimate  with 
[46] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

the  Frisbees  when  they  lived  in  West 
Thirty-third  Street.  But  she  has  dropped 
all  her  American  friends  since  her  mar 
riage.  The  excuse  was  that  de  Malrive 
didn't  like  them;  but  as  she's  been  sepa 
rated  for  five  or  six  years,  I  can't  see — . 
You  say  she 's  been  very  nice  to  your  mo 
ther  and  the  girls?  Well,  I  dare  say  she  is 
beginning  to  feel  the  need  of  friends  she 
can  really  trust ;  for  as  for  her  French  rela 
tions IThat  Malrive  set  is  the  worst  in 

the  Faubourg.  Of  course  you  know  what  he 
is;  even  the  family,  for  decency's  sake,  had 
to  back  her  up,  and  urge  her  to  get  a  sepa 
ration.  And  Christiane  de  Treymes " 

Durham  seized  his  opportunity.  "Is  she 
so  very  reprehensible  too?" 

Mrs.  Boykin  pursed  up  her  small  colour 
less  mouth.  "  I  can't  speak  from  personal 
experience.  I  know  Madame  de  Treymes 
[47] 


MADAME  DE   TREYMES 

slightly — I  have  met  her  at  Fanny's — 
but  she  never  remembers  the  fact  except 
when  she  wants  me  to  go  to  one  of  her 
ventes  de  charite.  They  all  remember  us 
then ;  and  some  American  women  are  silly 
enough  to  ruin  themselves  at  the  smart 
bazaars,  and  fancy  they  will  get  invitations 
in  return.  They  say  Mrs.  Addison  G.  Pack 
followed  Madame  d'Alglade  around  for  a 
whole  winter,  and  spent  a  hundred  thou 
sand  francs  at  her  stalls ;  and  at  the  end  of 
the  season  Madame  d'Alglade  asked  her 
to  tea,  and  when  she  got  there  she  found 
that  was  for  a  charity  too,  and  she  had  to 
pay  a  hundred  francs  to  get  in." 

Mrs.  Boykin  paused  with  a  smile  of  com 
passion.  "That  is  not  my  way,"  she  con 
tinued.  "Personally  I  have  no  desire  to 
thrust  myself  into  French  society — I  can't 
see  how  any  American  woman  can  do  so 
[48] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

without  loss  of  self-respect.  But  any  one 
can  tell  you  about  Madame  de  Treymes." 

"I  wish  you  would,  then,"  Durham  sug 
gested. 

"Well,  I  think  Elmer  had  better,"  said 
his  wife  mysteriously,  as  Mr.  Boykin,  at 
this  point,  advanced  across  the  wide  ex 
panse  of  Aubusson  on  which  his  wife  and 
Durham  were  islanded  in  a  state  of  pro 
pinquity  without  privacy. 

"What's  that,  Bessy?  Hah,  Durham, 
how  are  you  ?  Did  n't  see  you  at  Auteuil 
this  afternoon.  You  don't  race?  Busy 
sight-seeing,  I  suppose?  What  was  that 
my  wife  was  telling  you?  Oh,  about  Ma 
dame  de  Treymes." 

He  stroked  his  pepper-and-salt  mous 
tache  with  a  gesture  intended  rather  to 
indicate  than  to  conceal  the  smile  of  ex 
perience  beneath  it.  "Well,  Madame  de 
[49] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

Treymes  has  not  been  like  a  happy  coun 
try — she's  had  a  history:  several  of  'em. 
Some  one  said  she  constituted  thefeuille- 
ton  of  the  Faubourg  daily  news.  La  suite 
au  prochain  numero — you  see  the  point? 
Not  that  I  speak  from  personal  knowledge. 
Bessy  and  I  have  never  cared  to  force  our 

way" He  paused,  reflecting  that  his  wife 

had  probably  anticipated  him  in  the  expres 
sion  of  this  familiar  sentiment,  and  added 
with  a  significant  nod:  "Of  course  you 
know  the  Prince  d'Armillac  by  sight?  No? 
I'm  surprised  at  that.  Well,  he's  one  of  the 
choicest  ornaments  of  the  Jockey  Club: 
very  fascinating  to  the  ladies,  I  believe,  but 
the  deuce  and  all  at  baccara.  Ruined  his 
mother  and  a  couple  of  maiden  aunts  al 
ready — and  now  Madame  de  Treymes  has 
put  the  family  pearls  up  the  spout,  and  is 
wearing  imitation  for  love  of  him." 
[50] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

"I  had  that  straight  from  my  maid's 
cousin,  who  is  employed  by  Madame  d'Ar- 
millac's  jeweller,"  said  Mrs.  Boykin  with 
conscious  pride. 

"Oh,  it's  straight  enough — more  than 
she  is ! "  retorted  her  husband,  who  was 
slightly  jealous  of  having  his  facts  rein 
forced  by  any  information  not  of  his  own 
gleaning. 

"Be  careful  of  what  you  say,  Elmer," 
Mrs.  Boykin  interposed  with  archness.  "I 
suspect  John  of  being  seriously  smitten  by 
the  lady." 

Durham  let  this  pass  unchallenged,  sub 
mitting  with  a  good  grace  to  his  host's  low 
whistle  of  amusement,  and  the  sardonic  en 
quiry:  "Ever  do  anything  with  the  foils? 
D'Armillac  is  what  they  call  over  here  a 
fine  lame." 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  to  resort  to  blood- 
[51] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

shed  unless  it's  absolutely  necessary;  but  I 
mean  to  make  the  lady's  acquaintance," 
said  Durham,  falling  into  his  key. 

Mrs.  Boykin's  lips  tightened  to  the  van 
ishing  point.  "I  am  afraid  you  must  ap 
ply  for  an  introduction  to  more  fashionable 
people  than  we  are.  Elmer  and  I  so  thor 
oughly  disapprove  of  French  society  that 
we  have  always  declined  to  take  any  part 
in  it.  But  why  should  not  Fanny  de  Mai- 
rive  arrange  a  meeting  for  you?" 

Durham  hesitated.  "I  don't  think  she 
is  on  very  intimate  terms  with  her  hus 
band's  family " 

"You  mean  that  she's  not  allowed  to 
introduce  her  friends  to  them,"  Mrs.  Boy- 
kin  interjected  sarcastically ;  while  her  hus 
band  added,  with  an  air  of  portentous  in 
itiation:  "Ah,  my  dear  fellow,  the  way 
they  treat  the  Americans  over  here — 
[52] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

that's  another  chapter,  you  know." 

"How  some  people  can  stand  it!"  Mrs. 
Boy  kin  chimed  in;  and  as  the  footman, 
entering  at  that  moment,  tendered  her  a 
large  coronetted  envelope,  she  held  it  up 
as  if  in  illustration  of  the  indignities  to 
which  her  countrymen  were  subjected. 

"  Look  at  that,  my  dear  John,"  she  ex 
claimed — "another  card  to  one  of  their 
everlasting  bazaars!  Why,  it's  at  Madame 
d' Armillac's,  the  Prince's  mother.  Madame 
de  Treymes  must  have  sent  it,  of  course. 
The  brazen  way  in  which  they  combine  re 
ligion  and  immorality !  Fifty  francs  admis 
sion — rien  que  cela! — to  see  some  of  the 
most  disreputable  people  in  Europe.  And 
if  you're  an  American,  you're  expected  to 
leave  at  least  a  thousand  behind  you.  Their 
own  people  naturally  get  off  cheaper." 
She  tossed  over  the  card  to  her  cousin. 
[53] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

"There's  your  opportunity  to  see  Madame 
de  Treymes." 

"Make  it  two  thousand,  and  she'll  ask 
you  to  tea,"  Mr.  Boykin  scathingly  added. 


[54] 


V 

IN  the  monumental  drawing-room  of  the 
Hotel  de  Malrive — it  had  been  a  surprise 
to  the  American  to  read  the  name  of  the 
house  emblazoned  on  black  marble  over  its 
still  more  monumental  gateway — Dur 
ham  found  himself  surrounded  by  a  buzz 
of  feminine  tea-sipping  oddly  out  of  keep 
ing  with  the  wigged  and  cuirassed  por 
traits  frowning  high  on  the  walls,  the  ma 
jestic  attitude  of  the  furniture,  the  rigidity 
of  great  gilt  consoles  drawn  up  like  lords- 
in-waiting  against  the  tarnished  panels. 

It  was  the  old  Marquise  de  Malrive's 
"day,"  and  Madame  de  Treymes,  who 
li ved  with  her  mother,  had  admitted  Dur 
ham  to  the  heart  of  the  enemy's  country 
by  inviting  him,  after  his  prodigal  dis 
bursements  at  the  charity  bazaar,  to  come 
in  to  tea  on  a  Thursday.  Whether,  in  thus 
[55] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

fulfilling  Mr.  Boykin's  prediction,  she  had 
been  aware  of  Durham's  purpose,  and  had 
her  own  reasons  for  falling  in  with  it;  or 
whether  she  simply  wished  to  reward  his 
lavishness  at  the  fair,  and  permit  herself 
another  glimpse  of  an  American  so  pic 
turesquely  embodying  the  type  familiar  to 
French  fiction — on  these  points  Durham 
was  still  in  doubt. 

Meanwhile,  Madame  de  Treymes  being 
engaged  with  a  venerable  Duchess  in  a 
black  shawl — all  the  older  ladies  present 
had  the  sloping  shoulders  of  a  generation 
of  shawl- wearers — her  American  visitor, 
left  in  the  isolation  of  his  unimportance, 
was  using  it  as  a  shelter  for  a  rapid  survey 
of  the  scene. 

He  had  begun  his  study  of  Fanny  de 
Malrive's  situation  without  any  real  un 
derstanding  of  her  fears.  He  knew  the  re- 
[56] 


MADAME  DE   TREYMES 

pugnance  to  divorce  existing  in  the  French 
Catholic  world,  but  since  the  French  laws 
sanctioned  it,  and  in  a  case  so  flagrant  as 
his  injured  friend's,  would  inevitably  ac 
cord  it  with  the  least  possible  delay  and 
exposure,  he  could  not  take  seriously  any 
risk  of  opposition  on  the  part  of  the  hus 
band's  family.  Madame  de  Malrive  had 
not  become  a  Catholic,  and  since  her  reli 
gious  scruples  could  not  be  played  on,  the 
only  weapon  remaining  to  the  enemy — 
the  threat  of  fighting  the  divorce — was 
one  they  could  not  wield  without  self-in 
jury.  Certainly,  if  the  chief  object  were  to 
avoid  scandal,  common  sense  must  coun 
sel  Monsieur  de  Malrive  and  his  friends 
not  to  give  the  courts  an  opportunity  of 
exploring  his  past;  and  since  the  echo  of 
such  explorations,  and  their  ultimate  trans 
mission  to  her  son,  were  what  Madame  de 
[57] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

Malrive  most  dreaded,  the  opposing  par 
ties  seemed  to  have  a  common  ground  for 
agreement,  and  Durham  could  not  but 
regard  his  friend's  fears  as  the  result  of 
over-taxed  sensibilities.  All  this  had  seemed 
evident  enough  to  him  as  he  entered  the 
austere  portals  of  the  Hotel  de  Malrive  and 
passed,  between  the  faded  liveries  of  old 
family  servants,  to  the  presence  of  the 
dreaded  dowager  above.  But  he  had  not 
been  ten  minutes  in  that  presence  before 
he  had  arrived  at  a  faint  intuition  of  what 
poor  Fanny  meant.  It  was  not  in  the  exqui 
site  mildness  of  the  old  Marquise,  a  little 
grey-haired  bunch  of  a  woman  in  dowdy 
mourning,  or  in  the  small  neat  presence  of 
the  priestly  uncle,  the  Abb£  who  had  so 
obviously  just  stepped  down  from  one  of 
the  picture-frames  overhead :  it  was  not  in 
the  aspect  of  these  chief  protagonists,  so 
[58] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

outwardly  unformidable,  that  Durham  read 
an  occult  danger  to  his  friend.  It  was  ra 
ther  in  their  setting,  their  surroundings,  the 
little  company  of  elderly  and  dowdy  per 
sons — so  uniformly  clad  in  weeping  blacks 
and  purples  that  they  might  have  been  as 
sembled  for  some  mortuary  anniversary — 
it  was  in  the  remoteness  and  the  solidarity 
of  this  little  group  that  Durham  had  his 
first  glimpse  of  the  social  force  of  which 
Fanny  de  Malrive  had  spoken.  All  these 
amiably  chatting  visitors,  who  mostly  bore 
the  stamp  of  personal  insignificance  on  their 
mildly  sloping  or  aristocratically  beaked 
faces,  hung  together  in  a  visible  closeness 
of  tradition,  dress,  attitude  and  manner,  as 
different  as  possible  from  the  loose  aggre 
gation  of  a  roomful  of  his  own  country 
men.  Durham  felt,  as  he  observed  them, 
that  he  had  never  before  known  what  "  so- 
[59] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

ciety"  meant;  nor  understood  that,  in  an 
organized  and  inherited  system,  it  exists 
full-fledged  where  two  or  three  of  its  mem 
bers  are  assembled. 

Upon  this  state  of  bewilderment,  this 
sense  of  having  entered  a  room  in  which 
the  lights  had  suddenly  been  turned  out, 
even  Madame  de  Treymes'  intensely  mod 
ern  presence  threw  no  illumination.  He  was 
conscious,  as  she  smilingly  rejoined  him, 
not  of  her  points  of  difference  from  the 
others,  but  of  the  myriad  invisible  threads 
by  which  she  held  to  them ;  he  even  recog 
nized  the  audacious  slant  of  her  little  brown 
profile  in  the  portrait  of  a  powdered  ances 
tress  beneath  which  she  had  paused  a  mo 
ment  in  advancing.  She  was  simply  one 
particular  facet  of  the  solid,  glittering,  im 
penetrable  body  which  he  had  thought  to 
turn  in  his  hands  and  look  through  like  a 
[60] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

crystal;  and  when  she  said,  in  her  clear 
staccato  English,  "Perhaps  you  will  like  to 
see  the  other  rooms,"  he  felt  like  crying  out 
in  his  blindness : "  If  I  could  only  be  sure  of 
seeing  anything  here!"  Was  she  conscious 
of  his  blindness,  and  was  he  as  remote  and 
unintelligible  to  her  as  she  was  to  him? 
This  possibility,  as  he  followed  her  through 
the  nobly- unfolding  rooms  of  the  great 
house,  gave  him  his  first  hope  of  recover 
able  advantage.  For,  after  all,  he  had  some 
vague  traditional  lights  on  her  world  and 
its  antecedents;  whereas  to  her  he  was  a 
wholly  new  phenomenon,  as  unexplained 
as  a  fragment  of  meteorite  dropped  at  her 
feet  on  the  smooth  gravel  of  the  garden- 
path  they  were  pacing. 

She  had  led  him  down  into  the  garden, 
in  response  to  his  admiring  exclamation, 
and  perhaps  also  because  she  was  sure  that, 
[61  ] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

in  the  chill  spring  afternoon,  they  would 
have  its  embowered  privacies  to  themselves. 
The  garden  was  small,  but  intensely  rich 
and  deep  —  one  of  those  wells  of  verdure 
and  fragrance  which  everywhere  sweeten 
the  air  of  Paris  by  wafts  blown  above  old 
walls  on  quiet  streets;  and  as  Madame  de 
Treymes  paused  against  the  ivy  bank  mask 
ing  its  farther  boundary,  Durham  felt  more 
than  ever  removed  from  the  normal  bear 
ings  of  life. 

His  sense  of  strangeness  was  increased  by 
the  surprise  of  his  companion's  next  speech. 

"You  wish  to  marry  my  sister-in-law?" 
she  asked  abruptly ;  and  Durham's  start  of 
wonder  was  followed  by  an  immediate  feel 
ing  of  relief.  He  had  expected  the  prelimina 
ries  of  their  interview  to  be  as  complicated 
as  the  bargaining  in  an  Eastern  bazaar,  and 
had  feared  to  lose  himself  at  the  first  turn 
[62] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

in  a  labyrinth  of  "foreign"  intrigue. 

"Yes,  I  do,"  he  said  with  equal  direct 
ness  ;  and  they  smiled  together  at  the  sharp 
report  of  question  and  answer. 

The  smile  put  Durham  more  completely 
at  his  ease,  and  after  waiting  for  her  to 
speak,  he  added  with  deliberation :  "  So  far, 
however,  the  wishing  is  entirely  on  my 
side."  His  scrupulous  conscience  felt  itself 
justified  in  this  reserve  by  the  conditional 
nature  of  Madame  de  Malrive's  consent. 

"  I  understand ;  but  you  have  been  given 
reason  to  hope " 

"Every  man  in  my  position  gives  him 
self  his  own  reasons  for  hoping,"  he  inter 
posed  with  a  smile. 

"I  understand  that  too,"  Madame  de 
Treymes  assented.  "But  still — you  spent 
a  great  deal  of  money  the  other  day  at  our 
bazaar." 

[63] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

"Yes :  I  wanted  to  have  a  talk  with  you, 
and  it  was  the  readiest — if  not  the  most 
distinguished — means  of  attracting  your 
attention." 

"I  understand,"  she  once  more  reiter 
ated,  with  a  gleam  of  amusement. 

"It  is  because  I  suspect  you  of  under 
standing  everything  that  I  have  been  so 
anxious  for  this  opportunity." 

She  bowed  her  acknowledgement,  and 
said : "  Shall  we  sit  a  moment  ? "  adding,  as  he 
drew  their  chairs  under  a  tree :  "You  permit 
me,  then,  to  say  that  I  believe  I  understand 
also  a  little  of  our  good  Fanny's  mind?" 

"On  that  point  I  have  no  authority  to 
speak.  I  am  here  only  to  listen." 

"Listen,  then:  you  have  persuaded  her 
that  there  would  be  no  harm  in  divorcing 
my  brother — since  I  believe  your  religion 
does  not  forbid  divorce?" 
[64] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

"Madame  de  Malrive's  religion  sanctions 
divorce  in  such  a  case  as " 

"As  my  brother  has  furnished?  Yes,  I 
have  heard  that  your  race  is  stricter  in  judg 
ing  such  ecarts.  But  you  must  not  think," 
she  added,  "that  I  defend  my  brother. 
Fanny  must  have  told  you  that  we  have 
always  given  her  our  sympathy." 

"She  has  let  me  infer  it  from  her  way 
of  speaking  of  you." 

Madame  de  Treymes  arched  her  dra 
matic  eyebrows.  "How  cautious  you  are! 
I  am  so  straightforward  that  I  shall  have 
no  chance  with  you." 

"You  will  be  quite  safe,  unless  you  are 
so  straightforward  that  you  put  me  on  my 
guard." 

She  met  this  with  a  low  note  of  amuse 
ment. 

"At  this  rate  we  shall  never  get  any  far- 
[65] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

ther;  and  in  two  minutes  I  must  go  back 
to  my  mother's  visitors.  Why  should  we 
go  on  fencing?  The  situation  is  really  quite 
simple.  Tell  me  just  what  you  wish  to  know. 
I  have  always  been  Fanny's  friend,  and 
that  disposes  me  to  be  yours." 

Durham,  during  this  appeal,  had  had 
time  to  steady  his  thoughts ;  and  the  result 
of  his  deliberation  was  that  he  said,  with  a 
return  to  his  former  directness:  "Well, 
then,  what  I  wish  to  know  is,  what  posi 
tion  your  family  would  take  if  Madame  de 
Malrive  should  sue  for  a  divorce."  He  add 
ed,  without  giving  her  time  to  reply:  "I 
naturally  wish  to  be  clear  on  this  point  be 
fore  urging  my  cause  with  your  sister-in- 
law." 

Madame  de  Treymes  seemed  in  no  haste 
to  answer;  but  after  a  pause  of  reflection 
she  said,  not  unkindly :  "  My  poor  Fanny 
[66] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

might  have  asked  me  that  herself." 

"  I  beg  you  to  believe  that  I  am  not  act 
ing  as  her  spokesman,"  Durham  hastily  in 
terposed.  "I  merely  wish  to  clear  up  the  sit 
uation  before  speaking  to  her  in  my  own 
behalf." 

"You  are  the  most  delicate  of  suitors! 
But  I  understand  your  feeling.  Fanny  also 
is  extremely  delicate :  it  was  a  great  sur 
prise  to  us  at  first.  Still,  in  this  case— 
Madame  de  Treymes  paused — "since  she 
has  no  religious  scruples,  and  she  had  no 
difficulty  in  obtaining  a  separation,  why 
should  she  fear  any  in  demanding  a  di 
vorce?" 

"I  don't  know  that  she  does:  but  the 
mere  fact  of  possible  opposition  might  be 
enough  to  alarm  the  delicacy  you  have  ob 
served  in  her." 

"Ah — yes:  on  her  boy's  account." 
[67] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

"Partly,  doubtless,  on  her  boy's  ac 
count." 

"So  that,  if  my  brother  objects  to  a  di 
vorce,  all  he  has  to  do  is  to  announce  his 
objection?  But,  my  dear  sir,  you  are  giv 
ing  your  case  into  my  hands!"  She  flashed 
an  amused  smile  on  him. 

"Since  you  say  you  are  Madame  de 
Malrive's  friend,  could  there  be  a  better 
place  for  it  ? " 

As  she  turned  her  eyes  on  him  he  seemed 
to  see,  under  the  flitting  lightness  of  her 
glance,  the  sudden  concentrated  expression 
of  the  ancestral  will.  "I  am  Fanny's  friend, 
certainly.  But  with  us  family  considera 
tions  are  paramount.  And  our  religion  for 
bids  divorce." 

"So  that,  inevitably,  your  brother  will 
oppose  it?" 

She  rose  from  her  seat,  and  stood  fret- 
[68] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

ting  with  her  slender  boot-tip  the  minute 
red  pebbles  of  the  path. 

"I  must  really  go  in:  my  mother  will 
never  forgive  me  for  deserting  her." 

"But  surely  you  owe  me  an  answer?" 
Durham  protested,  rising  also. 

"In  return  for   your  purchases  at  my 
stall?" 

"No:  in  return  for  the  trust  I  have 
placed  in  you." 

She  mused  on  this,  moving  slowly  a 
step  or  two  toward  the  house. 

"Certainly  I  wish  to  see  you  again;  you 
interest  me,"  she  said  smiling.  "But  it  is 
so  difficult  to  arrange.  If  I  were  to  ask  you 
to  come  here  again,  my  mother  and  uncle 
would  be  surprised.  And  at  Fanny's " 

"Oh,  not  there!"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Where  then  ?  Is  there  any  other  house 
where  we  are  likely  to  meet?" 
[69] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

Durham  hesitated;  but  he  was  goaded 
by  the  flight  of  the  precious  minutes. 
"Not  unless  you'll  come  and  dine  with 
me,"  he  said  boldly. 

"Dine  with  you?  Au  cabaret  1  Ah,  that 
would  be  diverting — but  impossible!" 

"Well,  dine  with  my  cousin,  then — I 
have  a  cousin,  an  American  lady,  who  lives 
here,"  said  Durham,  with  suddenly-soaring 
audacity. 

She  paused  with  puzzled  brows.  "An 
American  lady  whom  I  know?" 

"By  name,  at  any  rate.  You  send  her 
cards  for  all  your  charity  bazaars." 

She  received  the  thrust  with  a  laugh. 
"We  do  exploit  your  compatriots." 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  she  has  ever  gone  to 
the  bazaars." 

"But  she  might  if  I  dined  with  her?" 

"Still  less,  I  imagine." 
[70] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

She  reflected  on  this,  and  then  said  with 
acuteness:  "I  like  that,  and  I  accept — but 
what  is  the  lady's  name?" 


[71  ] 


VI 

ON  the  way  home,  in  the  first  drop  of 
his  exaltation,  Durham  had  said  to  himself: 
"But  why  on  earth  should  Bessy  invite 
her?" 

He  had,  naturally,  no  very  cogent  rea 
sons  to  give  Mrs.  Boykin  in  support  of  his 
astonishing  request,  and  could  only,  mar 
velling  at  his  own  growth  in  duplicity,  suf 
fer  her  to  infer  that  he  was  really,  shame 
lessly  "smitten"  with  the  lady  he  thus  pro 
posed  to  thrust  upon  her  hospitality.  But,  to 
his  surprise,  Mrs.  Boykin  hardly  gave  her 
self  time  to  pause  upon  his  reasons.  They 
were  swallowed  up  in  the  fact  that  Madame 
de  Treymes  wished  to  dine  with  her,  as  the 
lesser  luminaries  vanish  in  the  blaze  of  the 
sun. 

"I  am  not  surprised,"  she  declared,  with 
a  faint  smile  intended  to  check  her  hus- 
[72] 


MADAME   DE   TREYMES 

band's  unruly  wonder.  "  I  wonder  you  are, 
Elmer.  Did  n't  you  tell  me  that  Armillac 
went  out  of  his  way  to  speak  to  you  the 
other  day  at  the  races?  And  at  Madame 
d'Alglade's  sale — yes,  I  went  there  after 
all,  just  for  a  minute,  because  I  found 
Katy  and  Nannie  were  so  anxious  to  be  ta 
ken — well,  that  day  I  noticed  that  Ma 
dame  deTreymes  was  quite  empresseewhen 
we  went  up  to  her  stall.  Oh,  I  did  n't  buy 
anything:  I  merely  waited  while  the  girls 
chose  some  lampshades.  They  thought  it 
would  be  interesting  to  take  home  some 
thing  painted  by  a  real  Marquise,  and  of 
course  I  did  n't  tell  them  that  those  women 
never  make  the  things  they  sell  at  their 
stalls.  But  I  repeat  I  'm  not  surprised :  I  sus 
pected  that  Madame  de  Treymes  had  heard 
of  our  little  dinners.  You  know  they're 
really  horribly  bored  in  that  poky  old  Fau- 
[73] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

bourg.  My  poor  John,  I  see  now  why  she's 
been  making  up  to  you !  But  on  one  point 
I  am  quite  determined,  Elmer;  whatever 
you  say,  I  shall  not  invite  the  Prince 
d'Armillac." 

Elmer,  as  far  as  Durham  could  observe, 
did  not  say  much;  but,  like  his  wife,  he 
continued  in  a  state  of  pleasantly  agitated 
activity  till  the  momentous  evening  of  the 
dinner. 

The  festivity  in  question  was  restricted 
in  numbers,  either  owing  to  the  difficulty 
of  securing  suitable  guests,  or  from  a  de 
sire  not  to  have  it  appear  that  Madame  de 
Treymes'  hosts  attached  any  special  im 
portance  to  her  presence ;  but  the  smallness 
of  the  company  was  counterbalanced  by 
the  multiplicity  of  the  courses. 

The  national  determination  not  to  be 
"downed"  by  the  despised  foreigner,  to 
[74] 


MADAME   DE   TREYMES 

show  a  wealth  of  material  resource  ob 
scurely  felt  to  compensate  for  the  possible 
lack  of  other  distinctions — this  resolve  had 
taken,  in  Mrs.  Boy  kin's  case,  the  shape — 
or  rather  the  multiple  shapes — of  a  series 
of  culinary  feats,  of  gastronomic  combina 
tions,  which  would  have  commanded  her 
deep  respect  had  she  seen  them  on  any 
other  table,  and  which  she  naturally  relied 
on  to  produce  the  same  effect  on  her  guest. 
Whether  or  not  the  desired  result  was 
achieved,  Madame  de  Treymes'  manner 
did  not  specifically  declare;  but  it  showed 
a  general  complaisance,  a  charming  willing 
ness  to  be  amused,  which  made  Mr.  Boy- 
kin,  for  months  afterward,  allude  to  her 
among  his  compatriots  as  "an  old  friend 
of  my  wife's — takes  potluck  with  us,  you 
know.  Of  course  there 's  not  a  word  of  truth 
in  any  of  those  ridiculous  stories." 
[75  ] 


MADAME   DE   TREYMES 

It  was  only  when,  to  Durham's  intense 
surprise,  Mr.  Boykin  hazarded  to  his 
neighbour  the  regret  that  they  had  not 
been  so  lucky  as  to  "secure  the  Prince  "- 
it  was  then  only  that  the  lady  showed,  not 
indeed  anything  so  simple  and  unprepared 
as  embarrassment,  but  a  faint  play  of  won 
der,  an  under-flicker  of  amusement,  as 
though  recognizing  that,  by  some  odd  law 
of  social  compensation,  the  crudity  of  the 
talk  might  account  for  the  complexity  of 
the  dishes. 

But  Mr.  Boykin  was  tremulously  alive 
to  hints,  and  the  conversation  at  once  slid 
to  safer  topics,  easy  generalizations  which 
left  Madame  de  Treymes  ample  time  to 
explore  the  table,  to  use  her  narrowed 
gaze  like  a  knife  slitting  open  the  unsus 
picious  personalities  about  her.  Nannie  and 
Katy  Durham,  who,  after  much  discussion 
[76] 


MADAME   DE   TREYMES 

(to  which  their  hostess  candidly  admitted 
them),  had  been  included  in  the  feast, 
were  the  special  objects  of  Madame  de 
Treymes'  observation.  During  dinner  she 
ignored  in  their  favour  the  other  carefully- 
selected  guests — the  fashionable  art-critic, 
the  old  Legitimist  general,  the  beauty 
from  the  English  Embassy,  the  whole  im 
pressive  marshalling  of  Mrs.  Boykin's 
social  resources — and  when  the  men 
returned  to  the  drawing-room,  Durham 
found  her  still  fanning  in  his  sisters  the 
flame  of  an  easily-kindled  enthusiasm. 
Since  she  could  hardly  have  been  held  by 
the  intrinsic  interest  of  their  converse,  the 
sight  gave  him  another  swift  intuition  of 
the  working  of  those  hidden  forces  with 
which  Fanny  de  Malrive  felt  herself  en 
compassed.  But  when  Madame  de  Treymes, 
at  his  approach,  let  him  see  that  it  was  for 
[77] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

him  she  had  been  reserving  herself,  he  felt 
that  so  graceful  an  impulse  needed  no 
special  explanation.  She  had  the  art  of 
making  it  seem  quite  natural  that  they 
should  move  away  together  to  the  remot 
est  of  Mrs.  Boykin's  far-drawn  salons,  and 
that  there,  in  a  glaring  privacy  of  brocade 
and  ormolu,  she  should  turn  to  him  with  a 
smile  which  avowed  her  intentional  quest 
of  seclusion. 

"  Confess  that  I  have  done  a  great  deal 
for  you ! "  she  exclaimed,  making  room  for 
him  on  a  sofa  judiciously  screened  from 
the  observation  of  the  other  rooms. 

"In  coming  to  dine  with  my  cousin?" 
he  enquired,  answering  her  smile. 

"  Let  us  say,  in  giving  you  this  half  hour." 

"For  that  I  am  duly  grateful — and  shall 
be  still  more  so  when  I  know  what  it  con 
tains  for  me." 

[78] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

"Ah,  I  am  not  sure.  You  will  not  like 
what  I  am  going  to  say." 

"Shall  I  not?"  he  rejoined,  changing 
colour. 

She  raised  her  eyes  from  the  thoughtful 
contemplation  of  her  painted  fan.  "  You 
appear  to  have  no  idea  of  the  difficulties." 

"  Should  I  have  asked  your  help  if  I  had 
not  had  an  idea  of  them  ? " 

"But  you  are  still  confident  that  with 
my  help  you  can  surmount  them?" 

"I  can't  believe  you  have  come  here  to 
take  that  confidence  from  me?" 

She  leaned  back,  smiling  at  him  through 
her  lashes.  "And  all  this  I  am  to  do  for 
your  beaux  yeux?" 

"No — for  your  own:  that  you  may  see 
with  them  what  happiness  you  are  confer 
ring." 

"You  are  extremely  clever,  and  I  like 
[79] 


MADAME   DE   TREYMES 

you."  She  paused,  and  then  brought  out 
with  lingering  emphasis:  "But  my  family 
will  not  hear  of  a  divorce." 

She  threw  into  her  voice  such  an  accent 
of  finality  that  Durham,  for  the  moment, 
felt  himself  brought  up  against  an  insur 
mountable  barrier,  but,  almost  at  once,  his 
fear  was  mitigated  by  the  conviction  that 
she  would  not  have  put  herself  out  so 
much  to  say  so  little. 

"When  you  speak  of  your  family,  do 
you  include  yourself?"  he  suggested. 

She  threw  a  surprised  glance  at  him.  "  I 
thought  you  understood  that  I  am  simply 
their  mouthpiece." 

At  this  he  rose  quietly  to  his  feet  with 
a  gesture  of  acceptance.  "  I  have  only  to 
thank  you,  then,  for  not  keeping  me  longer 
in  suspense." 

His  air  of  wishing  to  put  an  immediate 
[80] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

end  to  the  conversation  seemed  to  surprise 
her.  "Sit  down  a  moment  longer,"  she 
commanded  him  kindly;  and  as  he  leaned 
against  the  back  of  his  chair,  without  ap 
pearing  to  hear  her  request,  she  added  in 
a  low  voice :  "  I  am  very  sorry  for  you  and 
Fanny — but  you  are  not  the  only  persons 
to  be  pitied." 

"The  only  persons?" 

"In  our  unhappy  family."  She  touched 
her  breast  with  a  sudden  tragic  gesture. 
"I,  for  instance,  whose  help  you  ask — if 
you  could  guess  how  I  need  help  myself ! " 

She  had  dropped  her  light  manner  as 
she  might  have  tossed  aside  her  fan,  and 
he  was  startled  at  the  intimacy  of  misery 
to  which  her  look  and  movement  abruptly 
admitted  him.  Perhaps  no  Anglo-Saxon 
fully  understands  the  fluency  in  self-reve 
lation  which  centuries  of  the  confessional 
[81  ] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

have  given  to  the  Latin  races,  and  to  Dur 
ham,  at  any  rate,  Madame  de  Treymes' 
sudden  avowal  gave  the  shock  of  a  physi 
cal  abandonment. 

"I  am  so  sorry,"  he  stammered — "is 
there  any  way  in  which  I  can  be  of  use  to 
you?" 

She  sat  before  him  with  her  hands  clasped, 
her  eyes  fixed  on  his  in  a  terrible  intensity 
of  appeal.  "If  you  would — if  you  would! 
Oh,  there  is  nothing  I  would  not  do  for 
you.  I  have  still  a  great  deal  of  influence 
with  my  mother,  and  what  my  mother  com 
mands  we  all  do.  I  could  help  you — I  am 
sure  I  could  help  you;  but  not  if  my  own 
situation  were  known.  And  if  nothing  can 
be  done  it  must  be  known  in  a  few  days." 

Durham  had  reseated  himself  at  her 
side.  "Tell  me  what  I  can  do,"  he  said  in 
a  low  tone,  forgetting  his  own  preoccupa- 
[82] 


MADAME   DE   TREYMES 

tions  in  his  genuine  concern  for  her  dis 
tress. 

She  looked  up  at  him  through  tears. 
"How  dare  I?  Your  race  is  so  cautious,  so 
self-controlled — you  have  so  little  indul 
gence  for  the  extravagances  of  the  heart. 
And  my  folly  has  been  incredible — and 
unrewarded."  She  paused,  and  as  Durham 
waited  in  a  silence  which  she  guessed  to 
be  compassionate,  she  brought  out  below 
her  breath:  "I  have  lent  money — my  hus 
band's,  my  brother's — money  that  was  not 
mine,  and  now  I  have  nothing  to  repay  it 
with." 

Durham  gazed  at  her  in  genuine  aston 
ishment.  The  turn  the  conversation  had 
taken  led  quite  beyond  his  uncomplicated 
experiences  with  the  other  sex.  She  saw 
his  surprise,  and  extended  her  hands  in  de 
precation  and  entreaty.  "Alas,  what  must 
[83] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

you  think  of  me?  How  can  I  explain  my 
humiliating  myself  before  a  stranger?  Only 
by  telling  you  the  whole  truth — the  fact 
that  I  am  not  alone  in  this  disaster,  that  I 
could  not  confess  my  situation  to  my  fa 
mily  without  ruining  myself,  and  involving 
in  my  ruin  some  one  who,  however  unde 
servedly,  has  been  as  dear  to  me  as — as 
you  are  to " 

Durham  pushed  his  chair  back  with  a 
sharp  exclamation. 

"Ah,  even  that  does  not  move  you!" 
she  said. 

The  cry  restored  him  to  his  senses  by 
the  long  shaft  of  light  it  sent  down  the 
dark  windings  of  the  situation.  He  seemed 
suddenly  to  know  Madame  de  Treymes  as 
if  he  had  been  brought  up  with  her  in  the 
inscrutable  shades  of  the  H6tel  de  Malrive. 

She,  on  her  side,  appeared  to  have  a 
[84] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

startled  but  uncomprehending  sense  of  the 
fact  that  his  silence  was  no  longer  com 
pletely  sympathetic,  that  her  touch  called 
forth  no  answering  vibration;  and  she 
made  a  desperate  clutch  at  the  one  chord 
she  could  be  certain  of  sounding. 

"You  have  asked  a  great  deal  of  me — 
much  more  than  you  can  guess.  Do  you 
mean  to  give  me  nothing — not  even  your 
sympathy — in  return?  Is  it  because  you 
have  heard  horrors  of  me  ?  When  are  they 
not  said  of  a  woman  who  is  married  un 
happily?  Perhaps  not  in  your  fortunate 
country,  where  she  may  seek  liberation 
without  dishonour.  But  here — 1  You  who 
have  seen  the  consequences  of  our  disas 
trous  marriages — you  who  may  yet  be  the 
victim  of  our  cruel  and  abominable  sys 
tem  ;  have  you  no  pity  for  one  who  has  suf 
fered  in  the  same  way,  and  without  the  pos- 
[85] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

sibility  of  release?"  She  paused,  laying  her 
hand  on  his  arm  with  a  smile  of  deprecat 
ing  irony.  "It  is  not  because  you  are  not 
rich.  At  such  times  the  crudest  way  is  the 
shortest,  and  I  don't  pretend  to  deny  that 
I  know  I  am  asking  you  a  trifle.  You 
Americans,  when  you  want  a  thing,  al 
ways  pay  ten  times  what  it  is  worth,  and 
I  am  giving  you  the  wonderful  chance  to 
get  what  you  most  want  at  a  bargain." 

Durham  sat  silent,  her  little  gloved 
hand  burning  his  coat-sleeve  as  if  it  had 
been  a  hot  iron.  His  brain  was  tingling 
with  the  shock  of  her  confession.  She 
wanted  money,  a  great  deal  of  money :  that 
was  clear,  but  it  was  not  the  point.  She  was 
ready  to  sell  her  influence,  and  he  fancied 
she  could  be  counted  on  to  fulfil  her  side 
of  the  bargain.  The  fact  that  he  could  so 
trust  her  seemed  only  to  make  her  more  ter- 
[86] 


MADAME   DE   TREYMES 

rible  to  him — more  supernaturally  daunt 
less  and  baleful.  For  what  was  it  that  she 
exacted  of  him  ?  She  had  said  she  must  have 
money  to  pay  her  debts ;  but  he  knew  that 
was  only  a  pretext  which  she  scarcely  ex 
pected  him  to  believe.  She  wanted  the 
money  for  some  one  else;  that  was  what 
her  allusion  to  a  fellow-victim  meant.  She 
wanted  it  to  pay  the  Prince's  gambling 
debts — it  was  at  that  price  that  Durham 
was  to  buy  the  right  to  marry  Fanny  de 
Malrive. 

Once  the  situation  had  worked  itself  out 
in  his  mind,  he  found  himself  unexpect 
edly  relieved  of  the  necessity  of  weighing 
the  arguments  for  and  against  it.  All  the 
traditional  forces  of  his  blood  were  in  re  volt, 
and  he  could  only  surrender  himself  to 
their  pressure,  without  thought  of  compro 
mise  or  parley. 

[87] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

He  stood  up  in  silence,  and  the  abrupt 
ness  of  his  movement  caused  Madame  de 
Treymes'  hand  to  slip  from  his  arm. 

"You  refuse?"  she  exclaimed;  and  he 
answered  with  a  bow:  "Only  because  of 
the  return  you  propose  to  make  me." 

She  stood  staring  at  him,  in  a  perplexity 
so  genuine  and  profound  that  he  could  al 
most  have  smiled  at  it  through  his  disgust. 

"Ah,  you  are  all  incredible,"  she  mur 
mured  at  last,  stooping  to  repossess  herself 
of  her  fan ;  and  as  she  moved  past  him  to 
rejoin  the  group  in  the  farther  room,  she 
added  in  an  incisive  undertone:  "You  are 
quite  at  liberty  to  repeat  our  conversation 
to  your  friend!" 


[88] 


VII 

DURHAM  did  not  take  advantage  of  the 
permission  thus  strangely  flung  at  him.  Of 
his  talk  with  her  sister-in-law  he  gave  to 
Madame  de  Malrive  only  that  part  which 
concerned  her. 

Presenting  himself  for  this  purpose,  the 
day  after  Mrs.  Boykin's  dinner,  he  found 
his  friend  alone  with  her  son ;  and  the  sight 
of  the  child  had  the  effect  of  dispelling 
whatever  illusive  hopes  had  attended  him 
to  the  threshold.  Even  after  the  gover 
ness's  descent  upon  the  scene  had  left  Ma 
dame  de  Malrive  and  her  visitor  alone,  the 
little  boy's  presence  seemed  to  hover  ad- 
monishingly  between  them,  reducing  to  a 
bare  statement  of  fact  Durham's  confes 
sion  of  the  total  failure  of  his  errand. 

Madame  de  Malrive  heard  the  confes 
sion  calmly ;  she  had  been  too  prepared  for 
[89] 


MADAME   DE   TREYMES 

it  not  to  have  prepared  a  countenance  to 
receive  it.  Her  first  comment  was :  "  I  have 
never  known  them  to  declare  themselves 

so  plainly "  and  Durham's  baffled  hopes 

fastened  themselves  eagerly  on  the  words. 
Had  she  not  always  warned  him  that  there 
was  nothing  so  misleading  as  their  plain 
ness  ?  And  might  it  not  be  that,  in  spite  of 
his  advisedness,  he  had  suffered  too  easy  a 
rebuff?  But  second  thoughts  reminded  him 
that  the  refusal  had  not  been  as  uncondi 
tional  as  his  necessary  reservations  made  it 
seem  in  the  repetition;  and  that,  further 
more,  it  was  his  own  act,  and  not  that  of 
his  opponents,  which  had  determined  it. 
The  impossibility  of  revealing  this  to  Ma 
dame  de  Malrive  only  made  the  difficulty 
shut  in  more  darkly  around  him,  and  in  the 
completeness  of  his  discouragement  he 
scarcely  needed  her  reminder  of  his  promise 
[90] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

to  regard  the  subject  as  closed  when  once 
the  other  side  had  defined  its  position. 

He  was  secretly  confirmed  in  this  accep 
tance  of  his  fate  by  the  knowledge  that  it 
was  really  he  who  had  defined  the  position. 
Even  now  that  he  was  alone  with  Madame 
de  Malrive,  and  subtly  aware  of  the  strug 
gle  under  her  composure,  he  felt  no  temp 
tation  to  abate  his  stand  by  a  jot.  He  had 
not  yet  formulated  a  reason  for  his  resist 
ance  :  he  simply  went  on  feeling,  more  and 
more  strongly  with  every  precious  sign  of 
her  participation  in  his  unhappiness,  that 
he  could  neither  owe  his  escape  from  it  to 
such  a  transaction,  nor  suffer  her,  inno 
cently,  to  owe  hers. 

The  only  mitigating  effect  of  his  deter 
mination  was  in  an  increase  of  helpless 
tenderness  toward  her;  so  that,  when  she 
exclaimed,  in  answer  to  his  announcement 
[91] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

that  he  meant  to  leave  Paris  the  next  night : 
"  Oh,  give  me  a  day  or  two  longer  1 "  he  at 
once  resigned  himself  to  saying:  "If  I  can 
be  of  the  least  use,  I'll  give  you  a  hun 
dred." 

She  answered  sadly  that  all  he  could  do 
would  be  to  let  her  feel  that  he  was  there — 
just  for  a  day  or  two,  till  she  had  read 
justed  herself  to  the  idea  of  going  on  in  the 
old  way ;  and  on  this  note  of  renunciation 
they  parted. 

But  Durham,  however  pledged  to  the 
passive  part,  could  not  long  sustain  it  with 
out  rebellion.  To  "hang  round"  the  shut 
door  of  his  hopes  seemed,  after  two  long 
days,  more  than  even  his  passion  required 
of  him ;  and  on  the  third  he  despatched  a 
note  of  good-bye  to  his  friend.  He  was  go 
ing  off  for  a  few  weeks,  he  explained — his 
mother  and  sisters  wished  to  be  taken  to 
[92] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

the  Italian  lakes :  but  he  would  return  to 
Paris,  and  say  his  real  farewell  to  her,  be 
fore  sailing  for  America  in  July. 

He  had  not  intended  his  note  to  act  as 
an  ultimatum :  he  had  no  wish  to  surprise 
Madame  de  Malrive  into  unconsidered  sur 
render.  When,  almost  immediately,  his  own 
messenger  returned  with  a  reply  from  her, 
he  even  felt  a  pang  of  disappointment,  a 
momentary  fear  lest  she  should  have 
stooped  a  little  from  the  high  place  where 
his  passion  had  preferred  to  leave  her;  but 
her  first  words  turned  his  fear  into  rejoicing. 

"  Let  me  see  you  before  you  go :  some 
thing  extraordinary  has  happened,"  she 
wrote. 

What  had  happened,  as  he  heard  from 
her  a  few  hours  later — finding  her  in  a  tre 
mor  of  frightened  gladness,  with  her  door 
boldly  closed  to  all  the  world  but  himself — 
[93] 


MADAME   DE    TREYMES 

was  nothing  less  extraordinary  than  a  visit 
from  Madame  de  Treymes,  who  had  come, 
officially  delegated  by  the  family,  to  an 
nounce  that  Monsieur  de  Malrive  had  de 
cided  not  to  oppose  his  wife's  suit  for  di 
vorce.  Durham,  at  the  news,  was  almost 
afraid  to  show  himself  too  amazed ;  but  his 
small  signs  of  alarm  and  wonder  were  swal 
lowed  up  in  the  flush  of  Madame  de  Mai- 
rive's  incredulous  joy. 

"  It 's  the  long  habit,  you  know,  of  not 
believing  them — of  looking  for  the  truth 
always  in  what  they  dont  say.  It  took  me 
hours  and  hours  to  convince  myself  that 
there 's  no  trick  under  it,  that  there  can't 
be  any,"  she  explained. 

"Then   you   are  convinced  now?"  es 
caped  from  Durham;  but  the  shadow  of 
his  question  lingered  no  more  than  the  flit 
of  a  wing  across  her  face. 
[94] 


MADAME   DE   TREYMES 

"I  am  convinced  because  the  facts  are 
there  to  reassure  me.  Christiane  tells  me 
that  Monsieur  de  Malrive  has  consulted  his 
lawyers,  and  that  they  have  advised  him 
to  free  me.  Maitre  Enguerrand  has  been  in 
structed  to  see  my  lawyer  whenever  I  wish 
it.  They  quite  understand  that  I  never 
should  have  taken  the  step  in  face  of  any 
opposition  on  their  part — I  am  so  thankful 
to  you  for  making  that  perfectly  clear  to 
them! — and  I  suppose  this  is  the  return 
their  pride  makes  to  mine.  For  they  can  be 

proud  collectively "  She  broke  off,  and 

added,  with  happy  hands  outstretched: 
"And  I  owe  it  all  to  you —  Christiane  said 
it  was  your  talk  with  her  that  had  con 
vinced  them." 

Durham,  at  this  statement,  had  to  re 
press  a  fresh  sound  of  amazement;  but 
with  her  hands  in  his,  and,  a  moment  after, 
[95] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

her  whole  self  drawn  to  him  in  the  first 
yielding  of  her  lips,  doubt  perforce  gave 
way  to  the  lover's  happy  conviction  that 
such  love  was  after  all  too  strong  for  the 
powers  of  darkness. 

It  was  only  when  they  sat  again  in  the 
blissful  after-calm  of  their  understanding, 
that  he  felt  the  pricking  of  an  unappeased 
distrust. 

"Did  Madame  de  Treymes  give  you 
any  reason  for  this  change  of  front?"  he 
risked  asking,  when  he  found  the  distrust 
was  not  otherwise  to  be  quelled. 

"Oh,  yes:  just  what  I've  said.  It  was 
really  her  admiration  of  you — of  your  at 
titude — your  delicacy.  She  said  that  at 
first  she  had  n't  believed  in  it :  they  're  al 
ways  looking  for  a  hidden  motive.  And 
when  she  found  that  yours  was  staring  at 
her  in  the  actual  words  you  said :  that  you 
[96] 


MADAME  DE   TREYMES 

really  respected  my  scruples,  and  would 
never,  never  try  to  coerce  or  entrap  me — 
something  in  her — poor  Christiane! — an 
swered  to  it,  she  told  me,  and  she  wanted 
to  prove  to  us  that  she  was  capable  of 
understanding  us  too.  If  you  knew  her  his 
tory  you  'd  find  it  wonderful  and  pathetic 
that  she  can!" 

Durham  thought  he  knew  enough  of  it 
to  infer  that  Madame  de  Treymes  had  not 
been  the  object  of  many  conscientious 
scruples  on  the  part  of  the  opposite  sex ; 
but  this  increased  rather  his  sense  of  the 
strangeness  than  of  the  pathos  of  her  ac 
tion.  Yet  Madame  de  Malrive,  whom  he  had 
once  inwardly  taxed  with  the  morbid  rais 
ing  of  obstacles,  seemed  to  see  none  now ; 
and  he  could  only  infer  that  her  sister-in- 
law's  actual  words  had  carried  more  convic 
tion  than  reached  him  in  the  repetition  of 
[97] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

them.  The  mere  fact  that  he  had  so  much 
to  gain  by  leaving  his  friend's  faith  undis 
turbed  was  no  doubt  stirring  his  own  sus 
picions  to  unnatural  activity;  and  this  sense 
gradually  reasoned  him  back  into  accept 
ance  of  her  view,  as  the  most  normal  as 
well  as  the  pleasantest  he  could  take. 


[98] 


VIII 

THE  uneasiness  thus  temporarily  re 
pressed  slipped  into  the  final  disguise  of 
hoping  he  should  not  again  meet  Madame 
de  Treymes;  and  in  this  wish  he  was  se 
conded  by  the  decision,  in  which  Madame 
de  Malrive  concurred,  that  it  would  be 
well  for  him  to  leave  Paris  while  the  pre 
liminary  negotiations  were  going  on.  He 
committed  her  interests  to  the  best  profes 
sional  care,  and  his  mother,  resigning  her 
dream  of  the  lakes,  remained  to  fortify 
Madame  de  Malrive  by  her  mild  unima 
ginative  view  of  the  transaction,  as  an  un 
comfortable  but  commonplace  necessity, 
like  house-cleaning  or  dentistry.  Mrs.  Dur 
ham  would  doubtless  have  preferred  that 
her  only  son,  even  with  his  hair  turning 
grey,  should  have  chosen  a  Fanny  Frisbee 
rather  than  a  Fanny  de  Malrive;  but  it 
[99] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

was  a  part  of  her  acceptance  of  life  on  a 
general  basis  of  innocence  and  kindliness, 
that  she  entered  generously  into  his  dream 
of  rescue  and  renewal,  and  devoted  herself 
without  after-thought  to  keeping  up  Fan 
ny's  courage  with  so  little  to  spare  for  her 
self. 

The  process,  the  lawyers  declared,  would 
not  be  a  long  one,  since  Monsieur  de  Mai- 
rive's  acquiescence  reduced  it  to  a  formal 
ity ;  and  when,  at  the  end  of  June,  Durham 
returned  from  Italy  with  Katy  and  Nan 
nie,  there  seemed  no  reason  why  he  should 
not  stop  in  Paris  long  enough  to  learn 
what  progress  had  been  made. 

But  before  he  could  learn  this  he  was  to 
hear,  on  entering  Madame  de  Malrive's 
presence,  news  more  immediate  if  less  per 
sonal.  He  found  her,  in  spite  of  her  glad 
ness  in  his  return,  so  evidently  preoccupied 
[100] 


*  s 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

and  distressed  that  his  first  thought  was 
one  of  fear  for  their  own  future.  But  she 
read  and  dispelled  this  by  saying,  before  he 
could  put  his  question:  "Poor  Christiane 
is  here.  She  is  very  unhappy.  You  have 
seen  in  the  papers ?" 

"  I  have  seen  no  papers  since  we  left  Tu 
rin.  What  has  happened  ? " 

"The  Prince  d'Armillac  has  come  to 
grief.  There  has  been  some  terrible  scan 
dal  about  money  and  he  has  been  obliged 
to  leave  France  to  escape  arrest." 

"And  Madame  de  Treymes  has  left  her 
husband?" 

"Ah,  no,  poor  creature:  they  don't 
leave  their  husbands — they  can't.  But  de 
Treymes  has  gone  down  to  their  place  in 
Brittany,  and  as  my  mother-in-law  is  with 
another  daughter  in  Auvergne,  Christiane 
came  here  for  a  few  days.  With  me,  you 
[101] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

see,  she  need  not  pretend — she  can  cry  her 
eyes  out." 

"And  that  is  what  she  is  doing?" 

It  was  so  unlike  his  conception  of  the 
way  in  which,  under  the  most  adverse  cir 
cumstances,  Madame  de  Treymes  would  be 
likely  to  occupy  her  time,  that  Durham 
was  conscious  of  a  note  of  scepticism  in  his 
query. 

"Poor  thing — if  you  saw  her  you  would 
feel  nothing  but  pity.  She  is  suffering  so 
horribly  that  I  reproach  myself  for  being 
happy  under  the  same  roof." 

Durham  met  this  with  a  tender  pressure 
of  her  hand ;  then  he  said,  after  a  pause  of 
reflection :  "I  should  like  to  see  her." 

He  hardly  knew  what  prompted  him  to 

utter  the  wish,  unless  it  were  a  sudden  stir 

of  compunction  at  the  memory  of  his  own 

dealings  with  Madame  de  Treymes.  Had 

[  102  ] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

he  not  sacrificed  the  poor  creature  to  a 
purely  fantastic  conception  of  conduct? 
She  had  said  that  she  knew  she  was  asking 
a  trifle  of  him ;  and  the  fact  that,  materially, 
it  would  have  been  a  trifle,  had  seemed  at 
the  moment  only  an  added  reason  for  steel 
ing  himself  in  his  moral  resistance  to  it. 
But  now  that  he  had  gained  his  point— 
and  through  her  own  generosity,  as  it  still 
appeared — the  largeness  of  her  attitude 
made  his  own  seem  cramped  and  petty. 
Since  conduct,  in  the  last  resort,  must  be 
judged  by  its  enlarging  or  diminishing  ef 
fect  on  character,  might  it  not  be  that  the 
zealous  weighing  of  the  moral  anise  and 
cummin  was  less  important  than  the  un- 
considered  lavishing  of  the  precious  oint 
ment  ?  At  any  rate,  he  could  enjoy  no  peace 
of  mind  under  the  burden  of  Madame  de 
Treymes'  magnanimity,  and  when  he  had 
[103] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

assured  himself  that  his  own  affairs  were 
progressing  favourably,  he  once  more,  at 
the  risk  of  surprising  his  betrothed,  brought 
up  the  possibility  of  seeing  her  relative. 

Madame  de  Malrive  evinced  no  surprise. 
"  It  is  natural,  knowing  what  she  has  done 
for  us,  that  you  should  want  to  show  her 
your  sympathy.  The  difficulty  is  that  it  is 
just  the  one  thing  you  cant  show  her.  You 
can  thank  her,  of  course,  for  ourselves,  but 
even  that  at  the  moment " 

"Would  seem  brutal?  Yes,  I  recognize 
that  I  should  have  to  choose  my  words,"  he 
admitted,  guiltily  conscious  that  his  capa 
bility  of  dealing  with  Madame  de  Treymes 
extended  far  beyond  her  sister-in-law's  con 
jecture. 

Madame  de  Malrive  still  hesitated.  "I 
can  tell  her;  and  when  you  come  back  to 
morrow " 

[104  ] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

It  had  been  decided  that,  in  the  inter 
ests  of  discretion — the  interests,  in  other 
words,  of  the  poor  little  future  Marquis  de 
Malrive — Durham  was  to  remain  but  two 
days  in  Paris,  withdrawing  then  with  his 
family  till  the  conclusion  of  the  divorce 
proceedings  permitted  him  to  return  in 
the  acknowledged  character  of  Madame  de 
Malrive's  future  husband.  Even  on  this  oc 
casion,  he  had  not  come  to  her  alone ;  Nan 
nie  Durham,  in  the  adjoining  room,  was 
chatting  conspicuously  with  the  little  Mar 
quis,  whom  she  could  with  difficulty  be 
restrained  from  teaching  to  call  her  "Aunt 
Nannie."  Durham  thought  her  voice  had 
risen  unduly  once  or  twice  during  his  visit, 
and  when,  on  taking  leave,  he  went  to 
summon  her  from  the  inner  room,  he  found 
the  higher  note  of  ecstasy  had  been  evoked 
by  the  appearance  of  Madame  de  Treymes, 
[105] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

and  that  the  little  boy,  himself  absorbed 
in  a  new  toy  of  Durham's  bringing,  was 
being  bent  over  by  an  actual  as  well  as  a 
potential  aunt. 

Madame  de  Treymes  raised  herself  with 
a  slight  start  at  Durham's  approach:  she 
had  her  hat  on,  and  had  evidently  paused 
a  moment  on  her  way  out  to  speak  with 
Nannie,  without  expecting  to  be  surprised 
by  her  sister-in-law's  other  visitor.  But  her 
surprises  never  wore  the  awkward  form  of 
embarrassment,  and  she  smiled  beautifully 
on  Durham  as  he  took  her  extended  hand. 

The  smile  was  made  the  more  appealing 
by  the  way  in  which  it  lit  up  the  ruin  of 
her  small  dark  face,  which  looked  seared 
and  hollowed  as  by  a  flame  that  might 
have  spread  over  it  from  her  fevered  eyes. 
Durham,  accustomed  to  the  pale  inward 
grief  of  the  inexpressive  races,  was  posi- 
[106] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

lively  startled  by  the  way  in  which  she 
seemed  to  have  been  openly  stretched  on 
the  pyre ;  he  almost  felt  an  indelicacy  in 
the  ravages  so  tragically  confessed. 

The  sight  caused  an  involuntary  read 
justment  of  his  whole  view  of  the  situation, 
and  made  him,  as  far  as  his  own  share  in 
it  went,  more  than  ever  inclined  to  extre 
mities  of  self-disgust.  With  him  such  sen 
sations  required,  for  his  own  relief,  some 
immediate  penitential  escape,  and  as  Ma 
dame  de  Treymes  turned  toward  the  door 
he  addressed  a  glance  of  entreaty  to  his  be 
trothed. 

Madame  de  Malrive,  whose  intelligence 
could  be  counted  on  at  such  moments,  re 
sponded  by  laying  a  detaining  hand  on 
her  sister-in-law's  arm. 

"Dear  Christiane,  may  I  leave  Mr.  Dur 
ham  in  your  charge  for  two  minutes?  I 
[107] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

have  promised  Nannie  that  she  shall  see 
the  boy  put  to  bed." 

Madame  de  Treymes  made  no  audible 
response  to  this  request,  but  when  the 
door  had  closed  on  the  other  ladies  she 
said,  looking  quietly  at  Durham :  "  I  don't 
think  that,  in  this  house,  your  time  will 
hang  so  heavy  that  you  need  my  help  in 
supporting  it." 

Durham  met  her  glance  frankly.  "It 
was  not  for  that  reason  that  Madame  de 
Malrive  asked  you  to  remain  with  me." 

"Why,  then?  Surely  not  in  the  inter 
est  of  preserving  appearances,  since  she  is 
safely  upstairs  with  your  sister?" 

"No;  but  simply  because  I  asked  her  to. 
I  told  her  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you." 

"How  you  arrange  things!  And  what 
reason  can  you  have  for  wanting  to  speak 
to  me?" 

[108] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

He  paused  a  moment.  "Can't  you  im 
agine?  The  desire  to  thank  you  for  what 
you  have  done." 

She  stirred  restlessly,  turning  to  adjust 
her  hat  before  the  glass  above  the  mantel 
piece. 

"Oh,  as  for  what  I  have  done !" 

"Don't  speak  as  if  you  regretted  it,"  he 
interposed. 

She  turned  back  to  him  with  a  flash  of 
laughter  lighting  up  the  haggardness  of 
her  face.  "Regret  working  for  the  happi 
ness  of  two  such  excellent  persons?  Can't 
you  fancy  what  a  charming  change  it  is 
for  me  to  do  something  so  innocent  and 
beneficent?" 

He  moved  across  the  room  and  went  up 
to  her,  drawing  down  the  hand  which  still 
flitted  experimentally  about  her  hat. 

"Don't  talk  in  that  way,  however  much 
[109] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

one  of  the  persons  of  whom  you  speak  may 
have  deserved  it." 

"One  of  the  persons?  Do  you  mean 
me?" 

He  released  her  hand,  but  continued  to 
face  her  resolutely.  "I  mean  myself,  as 
you  know.  You  have  been  generous — ex 
traordinarily  generous." 

"Ah,  but  I  was  doing  good  in  a  good 
cause.  You  have  made  me  see  that  there 
is  a  distinction." 

He  flushed  to  the  forehead.  "I  am  here 
to  let  you  say  whatever  you  choose  to 
me." 

"Whatever  I  choose?"  She  made  a  slight 
gesture  of  deprecation.  "Has  it  never  oc 
curred  to  you  that  I  may  conceivably 
choose  to  say  nothing?" 

Durham  paused,  conscious  of  the  in 
creasing  difficulty  of  the  advance.  She  met 
[110] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

him,  parried  him,  at  every  turn :  he  had  to 
take  his  baffled  purpose  back  to  another 
point  of  attack. 

"Quite  conceivably,"  he  said:  "so  much 
so  that  I  am  aware  I  must  make  the  most 
of  this  opportunity,  because  I  am  not  likely 
to  get  another." 

"But  what  remains  of  your  opportunity, 
if  it  is  n't  one  to  me?" 

"  It  still  remains,  for  me,  an  occasion  to 

abase  myself "He  broke  off,  conscious 

of  a  grossness  of  allusion  that  seemed,  on 
a  closer  approach,  the  real  obstacle  to  full 
expression.  But  the  moments  were  flying, 
and  for  his  self-esteem's  sake  he  must  find 
some  way  of  making  her  share  the  burden 
of  his  repentance. 

"  There  is  only  one  thinkable  pretext  for 
detaining  you:  it  is  that  I  may  still  show 
my  sense  of  what  you  have  done  for  me." 
[Ill  ] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

Madame  de  Treymes,  who  had  moved 
toward  the  door,  paused  at  this  and  faced 
him,  resting  her  thin  brown  hands  on  a 
slender  sofa-back. 

"How  do  you  propose  to  show  that 
sense?"  she  enquired. 

Durham  coloured  still  more  deeply :  he 
saw  that  she  was  determined  to  save  her 
pride  by  making  what  he  had  to  say  of  the 
utmost  difficulty.  Well!  he  would  let  his 
expiation  take  that  form,  then — it  was  as 
if  her  slender  hands  held  out  to  him  the 
fool's  cap  he  was  condemned  to  press  down 
on  his  own  ears. 

"By  offering  in  return — in  any  form, 
and  to  the  utmost — any  service  you  are 
forgiving  enough  to  ask  of  me." 

She  received  this  with  a  low  sound  of 
laughter  that  scarcely  rose  to  her  lips. 
"  You  are  princely.  But,  my  dear  sir,  does 
[112] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

it  not  occur  to  you  that  I  may,  meanwhile, 
have  taken  my  own  way  of  repaying  my 
self  for  any  service  I  have  been  fortunate 
enough  to  render  you?" 

Durham,  at  the  question,  or  still  more, 
perhaps,  at  the  tone  in  which  it  was  put, 
felt,  through  his  compunction,  a  vague 
faint  chill  of  apprehension.  Was  she  threat 
ening  him  or  only  mocking  him  ?  Or  was 
this  barbed  swiftness  of  retort  only  the 
wounded  creature's  way  of  defending  the 
privacy  of  her  own  pain  ?  He  looked  at  her 
again,  and  read  his  answer  in  the  last  con 
jecture. 

"I  don't  know  how  you  can  have  re 
paid  yourself  for  anything  so  disinterested 
— but  I  am  sure,  at  least,  that  you  have 
given  me  no  chance  of  recognizing,  ever 
so  slightly,  what  you  have  done." 

She  shook  her  head,  with  the  flicker  of 
[113] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

a  smile  on  her  melancholy  lips.  "Don't  be 
too  sure!  You  have  given  me  a  chance 
and  I  have  taken  it — taken  it  to  the  full. 
So  fully,"  she  continued,  keeping  her  eyes 
fixed  on  his,  "  that  if  I  were  to  accept  any 
farther  service  you  might  choose  to  offer, 
I  should  simply  be  robbing  you — robbing 
you  shamelessly."  She  paused,  and  added 
in  an  undefinable  voice:  "I  was  entitled, 
was  n't  I,  to  take  something  in  return  for 
the  service  I  had  the  happiness  of  doing 
you?" 

Durham  could  not  tell  whether  the  irony 
of  her  tone  was  self-directed  or  addressed 
to  himself — perhaps  it  comprehended  them 
both.  At  any  rate,  he  chose  to  overlook 
his  own  share  in  it  in  replying  earnestly: 
"So  much  so,  that  I  can't  see  how  you 
can  have  left  me  nothing  to  add  to  what 
you  say  you  have  taken." 
[114] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

"Ah,  but  you  don't  know  what  that  is!" 
She  continued  to  smile,  elusively,  ambig 
uously.  "And  what's  more,  you  wouldn't 
believe  me  if  I  told  you." 

"How  do  you  know?"  he  rejoined. 

"You  didn't  believe  me  once  before; 
and  this  is  so  much  more  incredible." 

He  took  the  taunt  full  in  the  face.  "I 
shall  go  away  unhappy  unless  you  tell 
me — but  then  perhaps  I  have  deserved 
to,"  he  confessed. 

She  shook  her  head  again,  advancing 
toward  the  door  with  the  evident  inten 
tion  of  bringing  their  conference  to  a  close; 
but  on  the  threshold  she  paused  to  launch 
her  reply. 

"I  can't  send  you  away  unhappy,  since 
it  is  in  the  contemplation  of  your  happi 
ness  that  I  have  found  my  reward." 

[115] 


IX 

THE  next  day  Durham  left  with  his  fam 
ily  for  England,  with  the  intention  of  not 
returning  till  after  the  divorce  should  have 
been  pronounced  in  September. 

To  say  that  he  left  with  a  quiet  heart 
would  be  to  overstate  the  case:  the  fact 
that  he  could  not  communicate  to  Madame 
de  Malrive  the  substance  of  his  talk  with 
her  sister-in-law  still  hung  upon  him  un 
easily.  But  of  definite  apprehensions  the 
lapse  of  time  gradually  freed  him,  and 
Madame  de  Malrive's  letters,  addressed 
more  frequently  to  his  mother  and  sisters 
than  to  himself,  reflected,  in  their  reassur 
ing  serenity,  the  undisturbed  course  of 
events. 

There  was  to  Durham  something  pecu 
liarly  touching — as  of  an  involuntary  con 
fession  of  almost  unbearable  loneliness— 
[116] 


"  You  poor,  good  woman!"  he  said  gravely. 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

in  the  way  she  had  regained,  with  her  re 
entry  into  the  clear  air  of  American  asso 
ciations,  her  own  fresh  trustfulness  of  view. 
Once  she  had  accustomed  herself  to  the 
surprise  of  finding  her  divorce  unopposed, 
she  had  been,  as  it  now  seemed  to  Durham, 
in  almost  too  great  haste  to  renounce  the 
habit  of  weighing  motives  and  calculating 
chances.  It  was  as  though  her  coming  lib 
eration  had  already  freed  her  from  the  garb 
of  a  mental  slavery,  as  though  she  could 
not  too  soon  or  too  conspicuously  cast  off 
the  ugly  badge  of  suspicion.  The  fact  that 
Durham's  cleverness  had  achieved  so  easy 
a  victory  over  forces  apparently  impreg 
nable,  merely  raised  her  estimate  of  that 
cleverness  to  the  point  of  letting  her  feel 
that  she  could  rest  in  it  without  farther 
demur.  He  had  even  noticed  in  her,  during 
his  few  hours  in  Paris,  a  tendency  to  re- 
[117] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

proach  herself  for  her  lack  of  charity,  and 
a  desire,  almost  as  fervent  as  his  own,  to 
expiate  it  by  exaggerated  recognition  of 
the  disinterestedness  of  her  opponents — if 
opponents  they  could  still  be  called.  This 
sudden  change  in  her  attitude  was  pecu 
liarly  moving  to  Durham.  He  knew  she 
would  hazard  herself  lightly  enough  where- 
ever  her  heart  called  her;  but  that,  with  the 
precious  freight  of  her  child's  future  weigh 
ing  her  down,  she  should  commit  herself 
so  blindly  to  his  hand  stirred  in  him  the 
depths  of  tenderness.  Indeed,  had  the  ac 
tual  course  of  events  been  less  auspiciously 
regular,  Madame  de  Malrive's  confidence 
would  have  gone  far  toward  unsettling  his 
own ;  but  with  the  process  of  law  going  on 
unimpeded,  and  the  other  side  making  no 
sign  of  open  or  covert  resistance,  the  fresh 
air  of  good  faith  gradually  swept  through 
[118] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

the  inmost  recesses  of  his  distrust. 

It  was  expected  that  the  decision  in  the 
suit  would  be  reached  by  mid-September; 
and  it  was  arranged  that  Durham  and  his 
family  should  remain  in  England  till  a  de 
cent  interval  after  the  conclusion  of  the 
proceedings.  Early  in  the  month,  however, 
it  became  necessary  for  Durham  to  go  to 
France  to  confer  with  a  business  associate 
who  was  in  Paris  for  a  few  days,  and  on  the 
point  of  sailing  for  Cherbourg.  The  most 
zealous  observance  of  appearances  could 
hardly  forbid  Durham's  return  for  such  a 
purpose;  but  it  had  been  agreed  between 
himself  and  Madame  deMalrive — who  had 
once  more  been  left  alone  by  Madame  de 
Treymes'  return  to  her  family — that,  so 
close  to  the  fruition  of  their  wishes,  they 
would  propitiate  fate  by  a  scrupulous  ad 
herence  to  usage,  and  communicate  only, 
[119] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

during  his  hasty  visit,  by  a  daily  inter 
change  of  notes. 

The  ingenuity  of  Madame  de  Malrive's 
tenderness  found,  however,  the  day  after 
his  arrival,  a  means  of  tempering  their  pri 
vation.  "Christiane,"  she  wrote,  "is  passing 
through  Paris  on  her  way  from  Trouville, 
and  has  promised  to  see  you  for  me  if  you 
will  call  on  her  today.  She  thinks  there  is 
no  reason  why  you  should  not  go  to  the 
Hotel  de  Malrive,  as  you  will  find  her  there 
alone,  the  family  having  gone  to  Auvergne. 
She  is  really  our  friend  and  understands 
us." 

In  obedience  to  this  request — though 
perhaps  inwardly  regretting  that  it  should 
have  been  made — Durham  that  afternoon 
presented  himself  at  the  proud  old  house 
beyond  the  Seine.  More  than  ever,  in  the 
semi-abandonment  of  the  morte  saison,  with 
[120] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

reduced  service,  and  shutters  closed  to  the 
silence  of  the  high-walled  court,  did  it 
strike  the  American  as  the  incorruptible 
custodian  of  old  prejudices  and  strange  so 
cial  survivals.  The  thought  of  what  he  must 
represent  to  the  almost  human  conscious 
ness  which  such  old  houses  seem  to  possess, 
made  him  feel  like  a  barbarian  desecrating 
the  silence  of  a  temple  of  the  earlier  faith. 
Not  that  there  was  anything  venerable  in 
the  attestations  of  the  Hotel  de  Malrive, 
except  in  so  far  as,  to  a  sensitive  imagina 
tion,  every  concrete  embodiment  of  a  past 
order  of  things  testifies  to  real  convictions 
once  suffered  for.  Durham,  at  any  rate, 
always  alive  in  practical  issues  to  the  view 
of  the  other  side,  had  enough  sympathy 
left  over  to  spend  it  sometimes,  whimsi 
cally,  on  such  perceptions  of  difference. 
Today,  especially,  the  assurance  of  success 
[121  ] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

— the  sense  of  entering  like  a  victorious  be- 
leaguerer  receiving  the  keys  of  the  strong 
hold — disposed  him  to  a  sentimental  per 
ception  of  what  the  other  side  might  have 
to  say  for  itself,  in  the  language  of  old  por 
traits,  old  relics,  old  usages  dumbly  out 
raged  by  his  mere  presence. 

On  the  appearance  of  Madame  de 
Treymes,  however,  such  considerations 
gave  way  to  the  immediate  act  of  wonder 
ing  how  she  meant  to  carry  off  her  share 
of  the  adventure.  Durham  had  not  forgot 
ten  the  note  on  which  their  last  conversa 
tion  had  closed :  the  lapse  of  time  serving 
only  to  give  more  precision  and  perspective 
to  the  impression  he  had  then  received. 

Madame  de  Treymes'  first  words  implied 
a  recognition  of  what  was  in  his  thoughts. 

"It  is  extraordinary,  my  receiving  you 
here;  but  que  voulez  vous?  There  was  no 
[  122  ] 


MADAME   DE   TREYMES 

other  place,  and  I  would  do  more  than  this 
for  our  dear  Fanny." 

Durham  bowed.  "It  seems  to  me  that 
you  are  also  doing  a  great  deal  for  me." 

"Perhaps  you  will  see  later  that  I  have 
my  reasons,"  she  returned,  smiling.  "But 
before  speaking  for  myself  I  must  speak 
for  Fanny." 

She  signed  to  him  to  take  a  chair  near 
the  sofa-corner  in  which  she  had  installed 
herself,  and  he  listened  in  silence  while  she 
delivered  Madame  de  Malrive's  message, 
and  her  own  report  of  the  progress  of  affairs. 

"  You  have  put  me  still  more  deeply  in 
your  debt,"  he  said  as  she  concluded;  "I 
wish  you  would  make  the  expression  of 
this  feeling  a  large  part  of  the  message  I 
send  back  to  Madame  de  Malrive." 

She  brushed  this  aside  with  one  of  her 
light  gestures  of  deprecation.  "  Oh,  I  told 
[  123  ] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

you  I  had  my  reasons.  And  since  you  are 
here — and  the  mere  sight  of  you  assures 
me  that  you  are  as  well  as  Fanny  charged 
me  to  find  you — with  all  these  prelimina 
ries  disposed  of,  I  am  going  to  relieve  you, 
in  a  small  measure,  of  the  weight  of  your 
obligation." 

Durham  raised  his  head  quickly.  "By 
letting  me  do  something  in  return?" 

She  made  an  assenting  motion.  "  By  ask 
ing  you  to  answer  a  question." 

"That  seems  very  little  to  do." 

"Don't  be  so  sure !  It  is  never  very  little 
to  your  race."  She  leaned  back,  studying 
him  through  half-dropped  lids. 

"  Well,  try  me,"  he  protested. 

She  did  not  immediately  respond;  and 
when  she  spoke,  her  first  words  were  ex 
planatory  rather  than  interrogative. 

"I  want  to  begin  by  saying  that  I  be- 
[  124  ] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

lieve  I  once  did  you  an  injustice,  to  the  ex 
tent  of  misunderstanding  your  motive  for 
a  certain  action." 

Durham's  uneasy  flush  confessed  his  re 
cognition  of  her  meaning.  "Ah,  if  we  must 
go  back  to  that " 

"You  withdraw  your  assent  to  my  re 
quest?" 

"By  no  means;  but  nothing  consolatory 
you  can  find  to  say  on  that  point  can  really 
make  any  difference." 

"Will  not  the  difference  in  my  view  of 
you  perhaps  makes  a  difference  in  your 
own?" 

She  looked  at  him  earnestly,  without  a 
trace  of  irony  in  her  eyes  or  on  her  lips. 
"  It  is  really  I  who  have  an  amende  to  make, 
as  I  now  understand  the  situation.  I  once 
turned  to  you  for  help  in  a  painful  extrem 
ity,  and  I  have  only  now  learned  to  under- 
[125] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

stand  your  reasons  for  refusing  to  help  me." 

"  Oh,  my  reasons "  groaned  Durham. 

"I  have  learned  to  understand  them," 
she  persisted,  "by  being  so  much,  lately, 
with  Fanny." 

"But  I  never  told  her!"  he  broke  in. 

"  Exactly.  That  was  what  told  me.  I  un 
derstood  you  through  her,  and  through  your 
dealings  with  her.  There  she  was — the 
woman  you  adored  and  longed  to  save;  and 
you  would  not  lift  a  finger  to  make  her 
yours  by  means  which  would  have  seemed 
— I  see  it  now — a  desecration  of  your  feel 
ing  for  each  other."  She  paused,  as  if  to 
find  the  exact  words  for  meanings  she  had 
never  before  had  occasion  to  formulate. 
"  It  came  to  me  first — a  light  on  your  atti 
tude — when  I  found  you  had  never  breathed 
to  her  a  word  of  our  talk  together.  She  had 
confidently  commissioned  you  to  find  away 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

for  her,  as  the  mediaeval  lady  sent  a  prayer 
to  her  knight  to  deliver  her  from  captivity, 
and  you  came  back,  confessing  you  had 
failed,  but  never  justifying  yourself  by  so 
much  as  a  hint  of  the  reason  why.  And 
when  I  had  lived  a  little  in  Fanny's  inti 
macy — at  a  moment  when  circumstances 
helped  to  bring  us  extraordinarily  close — 
I  understood  why  you  had  done  this ;  why 
you  had  let  her  take  what  view  she  pleased 
of  your  failure,  your  passive  acceptance  of 
defeat,  rather  than  let  her  suspect  the  alter 
native  offered  you.  You  could  n't,  even  with 
my  permission,  betray  to  any  one  a  hint 
of  my  miserable  secret,  and  you  could  n't, 
for  your  life's  happiness,  pay  the  particular 
price  that  I  asked."  She  leaned  toward  him 
in  the  intense,  almost  childlike,  effort  at 
full  expression.  "Oh,  we  are  of  different 
races,  with  a  different  point  of  honour ;  but 
[  127  ] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

I  understand,  I  see,  that  you  are  good  peo 
ple — just  simply,  courageously  good!  " 

She  paused,  and  then  said  slowly : "  Have 
I  understood  you?  Have  I  put  my  hand 
on  your  motive?" 

Durham  sat  speechless,  subdued  by  the 
rush  of  emotion  which  her  words  set  free. 

"  That,  you  understand,  is  my  question," 
she  concluded  with  a  faint  smile;  and  he  an 
swered  hesitatingly:  "What  can  it  matter, 
when  the  upshot  is  something  I  infinitely 
regret  ? " 

"  Having  refused  me  ?  Don't ! "  She  spoke 
with  deep  seriousness,  bending  her  eyes  full 
on  his: "Ah,  I  have  suffered — suffered !  But 
I  have  learned  also — my  life  has  been  en 
larged.  You  see  how  I  have  understood  you 
both.  And  that  is  something  I  should  have 
been  incapable  of  a  few  months  ago." 

Durham  returned  her  look.  "I  can't  think 
[  128  ] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

that  you  can  ever  have  been  incapable  of 
any  generous  interpretation." 

She  uttered  a  slight  exclamation,  which 
resolved  itself  into  a  laugh  of  self-directed 
irony. 

"  If  you  knew  into  what  language  I  have 
always  translated  life!  But  that,"  she  broke 
off,  "is  not  what  you  are  here  to  learn." 

"I  think,"  he  returned  gravely,  "that  I 
am  here  to  learn  the  measure  of  Christian 
charity." 

She  threw  him  a  new,  odd  look.  "Ah, 
no — but  to  show  it!"  she  exclaimed. 

"To  show  it?  And  to  whom?" 

She  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then  re 
joined,  instead  of  answering:  "Do  you  re 
member  that  day  I  talked  with  you  at  Fan 
ny's?  The  day  after  you  came  back  from 
Italy?" 

He  made  a  motion  of  assent,  and  she 
[  129  ] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

went  on :"  You  asked  me  then  what  return 
I  expected  for  my  service  to  you,  as  you 
called  it;  and  I  answered,  the  contempla 
tion  of  your  happiness.  Well,  do  you  know 
what  that  meant  in  my  old  language — the 
language  I  was  still  speaking  then?  It 
meant  that  I  knew  there  was  horrible  mis 
ery  in  store  for  you,  and  that  I  was  wait 
ing  to  feast  my  eyes  on  it:  that's  all!" 

She  had  flung  out  the  words  with  one 
of  her  quick  bursts  of  self-abandonment, 
like  a  fevered  sufferer  stripping  the  band 
age  from  a  wound.  Durham  received  them 
with  a  face  blanching  to  the  pallor  of  her 
own. 

"What  misery  do  you  mean?"  he  ex 
claimed. 

She  leaned  forward,  laying  her  hand  on 
his  with  just  such  a  gesture  as  she  had  used 
to  enforce  her  appeal  in  Mrs.  Boykin's  bou- 
[  130  ] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

doir.  The  remembrance  made  him  shrink 
slightly  from  her  touch,  and  she  drew  back 
with  a  smile. 

"Have  you  never  asked  yourself,"  she 
enquired,  "why  our  family  consented  so 
readily  to  a  divorce?" 

"Yes,  often,"  he  replied,  all  his  unformed 
fears  gathering  in  a  dark  throng  about 
him.  "But  Fanny  was  so  reassured,  so 
convinced  that  we  owed  it  to  your  good 
offices " 

She  broke  into  a  laugh. "  My  good  offices  1 
Will  you  never,  you  Americans,  learn  that 
we  do  not  act  individually  in  such  cases? 
That  we  are  all  obedient  to  a  common  prin 
ciple  of  authority?" 

"Then  it  was  not  you " 

She  made  an  impatient  shrugging  mo 
tion.  "Oh,  you  are  too  confiding — it  is  the 
other  side  of  your  beautiful  good  faith ! " 
[131  ] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

"The  side  you  have  taken  advantage  of, 
it  appears?" 

"I — we — all  of  us.  I  especially!"  she 
confessed. 


[  132  ] 


X 

THERE  was  another  pause,  during  which 
Durham  tried  to  steady  himself  against  the 
shock  of  the  impending  revelation.  It  was 
an  odd  circumstance  of  the  case,  that  though 
Madame  de  Treymes'  avowal  of  duplicity 
was  fresh  in  his  ears,  he  did  not  for  a  mo 
ment  believe  that  she  would  deceive  him 
again.  Whatever  passed  between  them  now 
would  go  to  the  root  of  the  matter. 

The  first  thing  that  passed  was  the  long 
look  they  exchanged :  searching  on  his  part, 
tender,  sad,  undefinable  on  hers.  As  the 
result  of  it  he  said : "  Why,  then,  did  you 
consent  to  the  divorce?" 

"To  get  the  boy  back,"  she  answered  in 
stantly;  and  while  he  sat  stunned  by  the  un 
expectedness  of  the  retort,  she  went  on : "  Is 
it  possible  you  never  suspected  ?  It  has  been 
our  whole  thought  from  the  first.  Every- 
[  133  ] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

thing  was  planned  with  that  object." 

He  drew  a  sharp  breath  of  alarm.  "But 
the  divorce — how  could  that  give  him  back 
to  you?" 

"  It  was  the  only  thing  that  could.  We 
trembled  lest  the  idea  should  occur  to  you. 
But  we  were  reasonably  safe,  for  there  has 
only  been  one  other  case  of  the  same  kind 
before  the  courts."  She  leaned  back,  the 
sight  of  his  perplexity  checking  her  quick 
rush  of  words.  "You  didn't  know,"  she 
began  again,  "that  in  that  case,  on  the  re 
marriage  of  the  mother,  the  courts  instantly 
restored  the  child  to  the  father,  though  he 
had — well,  given  as  much  cause  for  divorce 
as  my  unfortunate  brother?" 

Durham  gave  an  ironic  laugh.  "Your 
French  justice  takes  a  grammar  and  dic 
tionary  to  understand." 

She  smiled.  "  We  understand  it — and  it 
[134] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

is  n't  necessary  that  you  should." 

"So  it  would  appear!"  he  exclaimed 
bitterly. 

"Don't  judge  us  too  harshly — or  not, 
at  least,  till  you  have  taken  the  trouble  to 
learn  our  point  of  view.  You  consider  the 
individual — we  think  only  of  the  family." 

"  Why  don't  you  take  care  to  preserve  it, 
then?" 

"Ah,  that 's  what  we  do ;  in  spite  of  every 
aberration  of  the  individual.  And  so,  when 
we  saw  it  was  impossible  that  my  brother 
and  his  wife  should  live  together,  we  simply 
transferred  our  allegiance  to  the  child — we 
constituted  him  the  family." 

"A  precious  kindness  you  did  him !  If  the 
result  is  to  give  him  back  to  his  father." 

"That,  I  admit,  is  to  be  deplored;  but 
his  father  is  only  a  fraction  of  the  whole. 
What  we  really  do  is  to  give  him  back  to 
[135] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

his  race,  his  religion,  his  true  place  in  the 
order  of  things." 

"His  mother  never  tried  to  deprive  him 
of  any  of  those  inestimable  advantages!" 

Madame  de  Treymes  unclasped  her 
hands  with  a  slight  gesture  of  deprecation. 

"Not  consciously,  perhaps;  but  silences 
and  reserves  can  teach  so  much.  His 
mother  has  another  point  of  view " 

"Thank  heaven!"  Durham  interjected. 

"Thank  heaven  for  her — yes — perhaps; 
but  it  would  not  have  done  for  the  boy." 

Durham  squared  his  shoulders  with  the 
sudden  resolve  of  a  man  breaking  through 
a  throng  of  ugly  phantoms. 

"You  haven't  yet  convinced  me  that  it 
won't  have  to  do  for  him.  At  the  time  of 
Madame  de  Malrive's  separation,  the  court 
made  no  difficulty  about  giving  her  the  cus 
tody  of  her  son ;  and  you  must  pardon  me 
[136] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

for  reminding  you  that  the  father's  unfit- 
ness  was  the  reason  alleged." 

Madame  deTreymes  shrugged  her  shoul 
ders.  "And  my  poor  brother,  you  would  add, 
has  not  changed;  but  the  circumstances 
have,  and  that  proves  precisely  what  I  have 
been  trying  to  show  you :  that,  in  such  cases, 
the  general  course  of  events  is  considered, 
rather  than  the  action  of  any  one  per 
son." 

"  Then  why  is  Madame  de  Malrive's  ac 
tion  to  be  considered?" 

"  Because  it  breaks  up  the  unity  of  the 
family." 

"  Unity /"  broke  from  Durham ;  and 

Madame  de  Treymes  gently  suffered  his 
smile. 

"  Of  the  family  tradition,  I  mean :  it  in 
troduces  new  elements.  You  are  a  new 
element." 

[137] 


MADAME   DE   TREYMES 

"Thank  heaven!"  said  Durham  again. 

She  looked  at  him  singularly.  "Yes— 
you  may  thank  heaven.  Why  is  n't  it  enough 
to  satisfy  Fanny?" 

"Why  isn't  what  enough?" 

"Your  being,  as  I  say,  a  new  element; 
taking  her  so  completely  into  a  better  air. 
Why  should  n't  she  be  content  to  begin  a 
new  life  with  you,  without  wanting  to  keep 
the  boy  too?" 

Durham  stared  at  her  dumbly.  "I  don't 
know  what  you  mean,"  he  said  at  length. 

"  I  mean  that  in  her  place "  she  broke 

off,  dropping  her  eyes.  "She  may  have 
another  son — the  son  of  the  man  she 
adores." 

Durham  rose  from  his  seat  and  took  a 
quick  turn  through  the  room.  She  sat  mo 
tionless,  following  his  steps  through  her 
lowered   lashes,  which  she   raised    again 
[  138  ] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

slowly  as  he  stood  before  her. 

"Your  idea,  then,  is  that  I  should  tell  her 
nothing?"  he  said. 

"Tell  her  now?  But,  my  poor  friend,  you 
would  be  ruined!" 

"Exactly."  He  paused.  "  Then  why  have 
you  told  me?" 

Under  her  dark  skin  he  saw  the  faint  co 
lour  stealing.  "  We  see  things  so  differently 
— but  can't  you  conceive  that,  after  all  that 
has  passed,  I  felt  it  a  kind  of  loyalty  not  to 
leave  you  in  ignorance?" 

"And  you  feel  no  such  loyalty  to  her?" 

"Ah,  I  leave  her  to  you,"  she  murmured, 
looking  down  again. 

Durham  continued  to  stand  before  her, 
grappling  slowly  with  his  perplexity,  which 
loomed  larger  and  darker  as  it  closed  in  on 
him. 

"You  don't  leave  her  to  me;  you  take 
[  139  ] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

her  from  me  at  a  stroke!  I  suppose,"  he 
added  painfully,  "  I  ought  to  thank  you  for 
doing  it  before  it's  too  late." 

She  stared.  "I  take  her  from  you?  I 
simply  prevent  your  going  to  her  unpre 
pared.  Knowing  Fanny  as  I  do,  it  seemed 
to  me  necessary  that  you  should  find  a 
way  in  advance — a  way  of  tiding  over  the 
first  moment.  That,  of  course,  is  what  we 
had  planned  that  you  should  n't  have.  We 
meant  to  let  you  marry,  and  then — .  Oh, 
there  is  no  question  about  the  result:  we 
are  certain  of  our  case — our  measures  have 
been  taken  de  loin"  She  broke  off,  as  if 
oppressed  by  his  stricken  silence.  "You 
will  think  me  stupid,  but  my  warning  you 
of  this  is  the  only  return  I  know  how  to 
make  for  your  generosity.  I  could  not  bear 
to  have  you  say  afterward  that  I  had  de 
ceived  you  twice." 

[  140  ] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

"Twice?"  he  looked  at  her  perplexedly, 
and  her  colour  rose. 

"I  deceived  you  once — that  night  at 
your  cousin's,  when  I  tried  to  get  you  to 
bribe  me.  Even  then  we  meant  to  consent 
to  the  divorce — it  was  decided  the  first 
day  that  I  saw  you."  He  was  silent,  and 
she  added,  with  one  of  her  mocking  ges 
tures:  "You  see  from  what  a  milieu  you 
are  taking  her!" 

Durham  groaned.  "She  will  never  give 
up  her  son ! " 

"How  can  she  help  it?  After  you  are 
married  there  will  be  no  choice." 

"No — but  there  is  one  now." 

"Now?"  She  sprang  to  her  feet,  clasp 
ing  her  hands  in  dismay. "  Have  n't  I  made 
it  clear  to  you  ?  Have  n't  I  shown  you  your 
course?"  She  paused,  and  then  brought 
out  with  emphasis :  "  I  love  Fanny,  and  I 
[141  ] 


MADAME   DE   TREYMES 

am  ready  to  trust  her  happiness  to  you." 

"I  shall  have  nothing  to  do  with  her 
happiness,"  he  repeated  doggedly. 

She  stood  close  to  him,  with  a  look  in 
tently  fixed  on  his  face.  "Are  you  afraid?" 
she  asked  with  one  of  her  mocking  flashes. 

"Afraid?" 

"Of  not  being  able  to  make  it  up  to 
her ?" 

Their  eyes  met,  and  he  returned  her 
look  steadily. 

"No;  if  I  had  the  chance,  I  believe  I 
could." 

"  I  know  you  could ! "  she  exclaimed. 

"That's  the  worst  of  it,"  he  said  with  a 
cheerless  laugh. 

"The  worst ?" 

"Don't  you  see  that  I  can't  deceive 
her?  Can't  trick  her  into  marrying  me 
now?" 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

Madame  de  Treymes  continued  to  hold 
his  eyes  for  a  puzzled  moment  after  he  had 
spoken;  then  she  broke  out  despairingly: 
"Is  happiness  never  more  to  you,  then, 
than  this  abstract  standard  of  truth?" 

Durham  reflected.  "I  don't  know — it's 
an  instinct.  There  does  n't  seem  to  be  any 
choice." 

"Then  I  am  a  miserable  wretch  for  not 
holding  my  tongue!" 

He  shook  his  head  sadly.  "That  would 
not  have  helped  me ;  and  it  would  have 
been  a  thousand  times  worse  for  her." 

"Nothing  can  be  as  bad  for  her  as  losing 
you!  Aren't  you  moved  by  seeing  her 
need?" 

"Horribly — are  not  you?"  he  said,  lift 
ing  his  eyes  to  hers  suddenly. 

She  started  under  his  look.  "  You  mean, 
why  don't  I  help  you?  Why  don't  I  use 
[140,] 


MADAME   DE   TREYMES 

my  influence?  Ah,  if  you  knew  how  I  have 
tried!" 

"And  you  are  sure  that  nothing  can  be 
done?" 

"Nothing,  nothing :  what  arguments  can 
I  use?  We  abhor  divorce — we  go  against 
our  religion  in  consenting  to  it — and  no 
thing  short  of  recovering  the  boy  could 
possibly  justify  us." 

Durham  turned  slowly  away.  "Then 
there  is  nothing  to  be  done,"  he  said, 
speaking  more  to  himself  than  to  her. 

He   felt   her   light  touch  on  his  arm. 

"Wait!  There  is  one  thing  more "  She 

stood  close  to  him,  with  entreaty  written 
on  her  small  passionate  face.  "There  is 
one  thing  more,"  she  repeated.  "And  that 
is,  to  believe  that  I  am  deceiving  you 
again." 

He  stopped  short  with  a  bewildered  stare. 
[  144  ] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

"That  you  are  deceiving  me — about  the 
boy?" 

"  Yes — yes ;  why  should  n't  I  ?  You're  so 
credulous — the  temptation  is  irresistible." 

"Ah,  it  would  be  too  easy  to  find  out— 

"Don't  try,  then!  Go  on  as  if  nothing 
had  happened.  I  have  been  lying  to  you," 
she  declared  with  vehemence. 

"Do  you  give  me  your  word  of  hon 
our?"  he  rejoined. 

"  A  liar's  ?  I  have  n't  any !  Take  the  logic 
of  the  facts  instead.  What  reason  have  you 
to  believe  any  good  of  me  ?  And  what  rea 
son  have  I  to  do  any  to  you  ?  Why  on  earth 
should  I  betray  my  family  for  your  bene 
fit  ?  Ah,  don't  let  yourself  be  deceived  to 
the  end!"  She  sparkled  up  at  him,  her  eyes 
suffused  with  mockery ;  but  on  the  lashes 
he  saw  a  tear. 

He  shook  his  head  sadly.  "  I  should  first 
[  145  ] 


MADAME   DE  TREYMES 

have  to  find  a  reason  for  your  deceiving 
me." 

"Why,  I  gave  it  to  you  long  ago.  I 
wanted  to  punish  you — and  now  I  Ve  pun 
ished  you  enough." 

"Yes,  you've  punished  me  enough,"  he 
conceded. 

The  tear  gathered  and  fell  down  her  thin 
cheek.  "It's  you  who  are  punishing  me 
now.  I  tell  you  I  'm  false  to  the  core.  Look 
back  and  see  what  I  Ve  done  to  you ! " 

He  stood  silent,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  ground.  Then  he  took  one  of  her  hands 
and  raised  it  to  his  lips. 

"You  poor,  good  woman!"  he  said 
gravely. 

Her  hand  trembled  as  she  drew  it  a- 
way.  "You're  going  to  her — straight  from 
here?" 

"Yes — straight  from  here." 
[  146  ] 


MADAME  DE  TREYMES 

"To  tell  her  everything — to  renounce 
your  hope  ?" 

"That  is  what  it  amounts  to,  I  suppose." 

She  watched  him  cross  the  room  and  lay 
his  hand  on  the  door. 

"Ah,  you  poor,  good  man!"  she  said 
with  a  sob. 


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